


Story Unending

by AllonsyBatch



Series: Story Unending [1]
Category: Shades of London Series - Maureen Johnson
Genre: AU where they remember the events from The Shadow Cabinet, Could include spoilers, Eton College, F/M, Ghost Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, London, Louisiana, Multi, Post The Shadow Cabinet, Protective Stephen, Rory/Stephen, Shades of London, Sid and Sadie, Stephen's a big idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-01 01:51:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18790609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllonsyBatch/pseuds/AllonsyBatch
Summary: After the events of The Shadow Cabinet, the Shades pick up the pieces of their unusual lives and try to bring down the biggest foes they've ever faced.  Picks up right at the end of The Shadow Cabinet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I'm dying not knowing how this story ends, so I wrote it myself. This is a work in progress, but it will be finished within the next couple weeks. I haven't had any editors, so while the mistakes are mine, the characters belong to Maureen Johnson.

The air had grown bitter in the time since they had emerged from the sewers beneath the streets of London, but Rory couldn’t help but be fascinated by the small flakes falling to rest on her shoulders and hair. The walk to the pub had not given her sufficient time to enjoy the way the snow melted on her hands, her tongue, the tip of her nose-so when they arrived at the squat building on the corner lit from the inside with promises of warmth and drinks, she lingered at the front, face upturned to the sky. 

“It’s not going anywhere, you know,” Stephen’s voice came from beside her, where he was beginning to shiver, hands still thrust in his pockets. He’d lost just a bit of his muscle mass in his days of being dead-Rory supposed not being alive would do that to a person-so his eyes and cheekbones seemed even more pronounced than usual. “It snows all the time here. Sometimes more than we can handle.”

“How do you do it?” Rory asked quietly, still looking up at the rapidly falling snow. 

“What? The snow?” Stephen replied, furrowing his brow in confusion. 

“How do you do what we just did and go back to having a normal life?” She finally lowered her gaze to Stephen’s face, looking somehow older than her eighteen years. In the last six months she’d moved across the world, been attacked by an undead serial killer, and joined a secret intelligence group. She felt a bit more mature than the average high school senior. 

“My life has never been normal,” Stephen answered quietly, trying for humor but instead coming off as sad and lonely. He shook his head, and looked through the window of the pub at Callum and Boo, who were already at the bar, probably ordering drinks much too strong for everyone. He saw Freddie and Thorpe sitting at a booth in the back, Freddie’s mouth already moving at a million miles an hour. 

“I wish I could tell you it gets easier,” he told her quietly, bringing his eyes back to Rory’s face. “I wish I could tell you that you get used to it, but you don’t. You just learn to…adapt. To cut yourself off from everyone without ever really getting close.” 

“What if I don’t want to cut myself off?” she asked, taking a deliberate step toward him and looking up his face. “What if I want to get close to someone?”

Stephen sighed and closed his eyes, clearly at war with himself inside his own head. “Rory, it’s not safe.” 

“Nothing about our lives is safe,” she responded, countering with his own words. 

“I’m older than you,” he returned, knowing how stupid it sounded the moment it left his mouth. 

“You are two years older, that’s hardly scandalous,” she laughed. “We would have gone to school at the same time.” She took another step toward him, this time reaching to take his arms, wrapping her hands around them gently. “I want to be a part of this team,” she said, gesturing with her head toward the lit window where their closest friends were sitting and enjoying their first rounds. “But I also want to be a part of this team.” This time she angled her head toward Stephen’s indicating him.

He withdrew his hands from his pockets, tentatively taking Rory’s hands and entwining their fingers together. 

“Don’t worry, I touched you while you were asleep, it’s safe,” she replied with the first hint of a smile, just before turning pink and laughing. “Of course, now I’m realizing how creepy that sounds.” 

She was rewarded with a rare Stephen smile, a genuine one that morphed into the even-rarer Stephen laugh. 

“I’m not afraid of you terminating me,” he chuckled, swinging their clasped hands between them. 

“Then what are you afraid of?” She asked, genuinely curious, but also terrified of the answer. 

“This,” he sighed in answer, resigning every thought circling his head. Before Rory had a chance to ask what he meant, his mouth was on hers. 

 

Callum whooped as he finished his drink, slamming the glass on the table while his drinking mates finished with more poise. 

“Oi! Where are they? They’ve already missed the first round!” he shouted, signaling to the bartender to bring another. He turned around and looked out the window, immediately groaning as the others began to notice the couple outside, wrapped around each other and completely oblivious to all but themselves. 

“Ha!” Boo shouted, standing up with a wide smile and pointing at Callum. “I told you! You owe me five pounds!”

Thorpe had the good sense to look disinterested, but Freddie noticed the small smile on his face as he lifted his glass for another drink.

 

When Stephen and Rory entered the pub several minutes later, their faces were still pink from the snow and their lips were still red and swollen from the kiss. They still held hands, and even Stephen couldn’t help the contented grin on his face as Callum led everyone (minus Thorpe) in hooting and cheering as the two approached. 

“Mate, you managed to take the stick out of your arse and a fiver out of my pocket at the same time!” Callum shouted happily, Boo giving him a half-hearted slap on the shoulder despite the giggle emerging from her mouth. 

“Shut up,” Stephen managed, hitting Callum’s other shoulder with the hand that wasn’t holding Rory’s. “Second round is on me-and the third if it keeps you quiet.”

 

Rory had only been in a pub a few times in her time in London, but even so she could tell this time was different. While usually drinks were had while chatting with friends and otherwise relaxing on a weekend, it became obvious that this time drinking was a means to an end. They said aloud that they were celebrating, but in reality they were drinking to forget for a while. The past several days had been a whirlwind of mothers for this small group, and it was evident by the number of empty glasses that left the table that these emotions were nothing any of them wanted to dwell on at the moment. 

It took much less for Rory to feel pleasantly fuzzy than the others, who were much more used to the lower UK drinking age. While she had reached the point of being warm and floaty, it became obvious that Boo, Callum, and even Stephen were well-beyond that point. While Callum and Boo had gradually become louder and louder as they drank more and more, Stephen had become more and more quiet, so not far from his usual persona. However, rather than having his usual razor-sharp vision that seemed to look through someone, his eyes were glassy, giving him a generally sleepy appearance. 

Thorpe and Freddie had seemed to have come to some unspoken agreement to stay somewhat sober, and it proved to be useful as it ended up taking both of them plus a fairly drunk Boo to wrangle Callum home that evening. Rory had been taxed with Stephen, who was nearly just as far gone, but at least walking under his own steam. He leaned heavily again Rory as they walked back to the borrowed flat, his voice slurred and quieter than normal as he blabbed freely. 

“Haven’t drank in ages,” he mumbled, a dopey smile on his face as he looked ahead. He tried to hold Rory’s hand again, but it proved too much for his current coordination and he settled for simply leaning against her as they walked. 

“You know there used to be a ghost in that pub?” he mumbled drunkenly. “Hid in the loo-had to shut down until we could do ‘maintenance.’” He used his hands to wildly gesticulate finger quotes, almost stumbling in the process. “Just a kid-involved in a carriage accident outside the building in the late 1840s-had no idea he was even dead. Had to dust him-that one hurt.”

Stephen was never this talkative, especially about their “job.” Rory knew it was because he was drunk, but it still broke her heart to think about how many stories like this one Stephen kept to himself, bottling up the associated emotions without ever having an outlet. Her heart and head were full after only a few weeks-what must it be like in his?

The flat was already quiet when they got in, everybody apparently asleep aside from Thorpe, who sat in the overstuffed armchair by the door-the ever-vigilant parent figure making sure everyone made it home okay.

“Put a trash can by his bed tonight-just in case,” he told Rory without looking up from the paperback novel he read, Rory nodding as she led Stephen to the stairs and up them. 

Stephen sat down hard on his bed once they arrived, yawning and looking like he could drop any moment. Rory had realized on the walk home that it was going to be up to her to get him into bed that night, and the sheer implication of that had her heart beating wildly in her chest. 

“Come on you, arms up,” she said softly, trying to see Stephen as a sleepy child rather than someone she had been making out with mere hours before. He obeyed without question, Rory pulling his sweater off over his head and draping it over the small desk chair in the corner. Down to his bare chest, she had been considering how awkward it would be to tuck him in while he was still in his jeans when he stood up and started unfastening them before she could stop him.

“Stephen! No-“ She had barely begun to protest before he stripped down to his shorts, hopped in bed and pulled the covers up with much more grace than anyone that drunk had any business doing. 

Rory let out a breath, rolling her eyes as she picked his jeans up off the floor and folded them with the sweater. She was just sneaking quietly out of the room when she heard Stephen mumble from under the blankets. 

“Stay.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answered, moving beside the bed despite her words. “I…I want to …” she began quietly. “..but…”

“Not that,” he grumbled impatiently, his eyes already closed. He patted the spot on the bed beside him. “Just…here.”

Rory ran through all the reasons in her head as to why this wasn’t a good idea, but in the end decided that Stephen was in no position to do much of anything other than snore. Also, she had been very apprehensive to leave him alone since his death, under the fear that he could somehow slip away again. 

“I’m going to change. Be right back,” She whispered to him in the dark, looking around and finding the small duffel bag of clothes in the corner. She rummaged until she found an oversized tee and gym shorts, deciding they were as good as anything for pajamas this evening. She stepped into the attached bathroom long enough to change and pull her hair up, but Stephen was already snoring softly by the time she returned. 

There was a brief panic when Rory wasn’t sure if she should lay awkwardly on top of the covers or beneath them, but the moment she laid beside him, Stephen rolled over and attached himself to her side like she was a large teddy bear. He made no other movements, arms firmly around her and head pillowed on her shoulder, his breathing deep and even. Rory gave another small sigh and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The light pouring through the window early the next morning woke Rory, her head only giving a slight protesting ache to her drinking the night before. She was thirsty too, and badly needed to use the bathroom, but overall, she didn’t think it was too bad for her first hangover. Extricating herself from Stephen was not difficult, as his grip had loosened in the night and he was half-sprawled over top of her and half not. He was still snoring soundly, and barely moved when Rory sat up and pulled the covers back to get out of bed. There was only a large bathtub in the attached bathroom and since a shower was definitely in order, she decided to head to the small room down the hall between the other bedrooms of the house. She groaned to herself at the sound of water already running, meaning she was not the first one to have the idea this morning. 

Rory considered going back to bed, but dreaded the idea of possibly running into an awake and embarrassed Stephen, so she decided to go ahead and begin the process of making herself look presentable. She heard Boo’s voice coming from the bathroom, and since their time at Wexford had them frequently getting ready in the same room as other girls showering behind closed curtains, Rory opened the door and started to look at herself in the mirror. 

“Hey Boo, it’s me, I-“ she stopped immediately, realizing much too late that Boo’s was not the only voice coming from the shower. 

“Oh, hey Rory,” Callum said, poking his head out from one side of the curtain with a perfectly contented look on his face, modesty clearly of no concern to him. “Stephen isn’t too hungover is he? He was always a lightweight.” 

“Is he throwing up?” Boo asked, sticking her head out from the other side, just as nonplussed by the situation as Callum. “That’s never a good way to wake up.”

“I’ll just-“ Rory started again, trying to hide her eyes and find the doorknob simultaneously. 

“No need, we’re finished,” Callum replied, whipping back the curtain and grabbing a towel, barely giving Rory time to throw her hands over her eyes. “All yours-I’ll go check on Stephen.” 

Rory, red-faced and mortified, stepped into the shower wondering if her life would ever be normal again.

 

 

Rory had only just felt her face begin to lose its blush when she emerged from the shower, wearing another of Stephen’s old shirts and a pair of Eton sweatpants she’d found in his bag. Everyone was already up and in the kitchen, including Stephen, who was looking worse for wear but was giving her a small smile from his seat at the table. 

“You could have warned me I was getting a wake-up call from Callum,” he told her quietly as she approached, handing her a steaming mug of coffee before she took at seat at the table.

“She’d already had a bit of a fright,” Boo explained with a grin, looking at Callum and sending the two of them into a stream of hushed giggles. 

“I’m just going to assume you all know my stance on co-mingling,” Thorpe said quietly, passing Rory a box of cereal and a bowl. He was fresh and in clean clothes, which made Rory wonder if he had slept at all himself the night before. “I’ve secured a temporary location for you all,” he explained, not choosing to continue the conversation about the previous evening’s sleeping arrangements. “It’s getting furnished and supplied as we speak, but after that you’re all back to supplying yourselves with the basic necessities. I’ve arranged for you to have one calendar week to recuperate from the previous mission before any other assignments. In that time I expect you to bring Rory and Freddie fully up to speed.”

While he was addressing the entire group, it was obvious he was mainly speaking to Stephen, who had always held the unofficial title of leader. Rory’s recent discovery of his position in The Shadow Cabinet gave her more to think about regarding his position on the team, but she would have to wait until they were alone to ask him any questions regarding this secret he’d kept from the other team members. 

 

“Pack your things,” Thorpe continued. “I’ll send a car at noon.” 

 

The car that arrived to take them to their new temporary headquarters was a dark SUV, making Rory feel more and more like she was involved in secret government conspiracies. They had to squeeze to fit all five of them plus their bags, but luckily the drive was not a long one. Rory held her breath as they passed Hyde Park, the Marble Arch and the surrounding area still closed off and covered in police tape. They circled around Kensington Palace at the other end of the park, and came to a stop in front of a large red brick building. 

“Thorpe’s outdone himself this time,” Boo marveled, getting out of the car and looking up at the building. “These flats are easily worth two million pounds.” 

“Two-point-three million, actually,” Thorpe replied, coming out of the door in front of them. “This unit is yours-first floor, easy access to the Tube, two bedrooms-one for the girls, one for the guys-or one can use the fold-out in the living room,” he added as Rory and Stephen turned pink, Callum and Boo giggling once again.

“First dibs on the bigger room!” Callum shouted, pushing ahead of the others and bounding up the steps, Boo hot on his heels. Thorpe followed the two inside, allowing the remaining three to remove their bags on their own. 

“No worries, you two, I’ll take the fold-out,” Freddie replied with a smile at Rory, causing her to instantly flush an even deeper red. She was fully prepared for Stephen to step forward and offer himself, leaving Rory to share with Freddie while he took the chivalrous route-but to her surprise, he didn’t. 

“Come on, I want you two to get settled-we’re going to have to discuss training options,” Stephen suggested, surprising both of the girls. “If you’re going to be on this team, you need to learn to defend yourselves.”

 

 

Rory followed Stephen up the stairs of the flat, Freddie having already dumped her bag on the living room sofa. The only empty bedroom was at the end of the hall, a small room with a queen-sized bed and a balcony overlooking the tree-covered road beyond. 

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Stephen said aloud before Rory had even set down her bags. He closed the door lightly behind him, setting down his own bag and staring at the floor. “It was wrong of me to put you into that sort of position-it won’t happen again.” 

Watching him apologize was almost painful, like a puppy scolded for sitting on the furniture. Rory wanted to roll her eyes for him being the constant worrier that he was, but she supposed it was good that he respected her boundaries. She crossed the room to stand in front of him, reaching out to tilt his chin up to look at her. 

“What if I want it to happen again? she asked, trying for a sexy voice but ending up just sounding hoarse. He gave her another shy smile, looking away in embarrassment. 

“It was…nice, actually. I haven’t slept that well in…a long time.” 

Rory laughed with him, this time initiating the soft kiss that followed. It was slow, nothing hurried-like they had all the time in the world. 

“As long as you don’t snore like that when you’re sober,” she teased, their faces still together, her lips brushing his as she spoke. He gave her a playful shove and rolled his eyes. 

“I do not snore,” he replied indignantly. “Do I?”

It occurred to Rory that he didn’t know-perhaps because he’d never been in the position to have another person tell him he snored. She knew so little of Stephen’s history-least of all who had possibly shared his bed in the past. 

“You do,” she answered, pulling him back and kissing his cheek. “And if you’re not good, I’ll tell you some of the things you said when you talk in your sleep, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to see a flat very similar to the one the Shades moved into:
> 
> https://www.foxtons.co.uk/properties-for-sale/sw10/chpk3652800


	3. Chapter 3

Rory never had a chance to feel awkward about the sleeping arrangements, because Stephen never seemed to sleep. For the next two days, he spent his time poring over his notes and books, rarely stopping long enough to eat and speak a few short words to Thorpe on the phone.

“Of course he’s working-he doesn’t understand how to have a holiday,” Callum said aloud from the couch where he, Freddie, Boo, and Rory were sitting, mindlessly watching television. 

“Shut up, Cal,” Boo scolded, slapping his shoulder. “You know he’s trying to make sense of what happened to him.” Boo rearranged herself from where she was half reclined against Callum’s lap so she could also whisper to Rory. “Speaking of what happened…did anything?”

“Nothing,” Rory replied, rolling her eyes. “I told you-we came back, and he fell asleep. Nothing happened.”

“But he fell asleep wrapped around you,” she teased. “I think the more interesting question is if anything is going to happen.” 

Rory sighed, not knowing to the answer to that question herself. “I don’t know-I mean, it hardly seems appropriate with everything else going on.” 

“Oh my god, whatever he has is contagious and you’re infected,” Boo groaned. “You two are allowed to be human you know. God knows Stephen could use a little recreation.”

Rory considered the possibility of her relationship with Stephen escalating to more than a few stolen kisses in times of fear and tragedy. She was no prude-she’d had her fair share of make out sessions and over-the-clothes gropes under the bleachers back in Louisiana, but never much beyond that. She was eighteen, but between school and trying not to get killed, she hadn’t really found the time to perfect her sexual prowess.

“I don’t know. I suppose…I suppose I’ll just see how it goes.”

“I bet he doesn’t even know how to do it,” Callum laughed, completely unaware that Stephen had entered the room behind him. 

“Know how to do what?” Stephen asked curiously, sending Callum into a blushing silence. Stephen looked exhausted-his glasses doing little to cover the redness of his eyes or the bags beneath them. 

“We were talking about how you need to take a break,” Boo explained, saving everyone the awkwardness of the truth. 

“Rory, can you come with me for a moment?” Stephen asked, ignoring Boo’s comment. 

“Only if you do it right, mate,” Callum chuckled under his breath, getting another punch from Boo. 

Rory got up from the couch and followed Stephen into the dining room, which had been set up as a makeshift office. 

“She’s right you know,” she told him as she walked around the table, notes scattered everywhere around the surface. “You look exhausted-just take a short rest?”

“I’ll rest later, right now I want you to help me with something.”

“With what?”

“Your friend in the Wexford library-you said he’s always there?” he asked, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes. 

“Alistair? Yeah, he’s usually in the Classics section, why?”

“I want to talk to him. Get your things, it’s still the Christmas holidays, so nobody should be around.”

She wasn’t sure what was so important that Alistair could offer insight into, but the thought of getting out of the house for a while and having Stephen alone appealed to Rory enough that she gathered her things quickly and met him at their car-a nondescript sedan to replace the police vehicle involved in the accident that had killed Stephen. 

 

The drive to Wexford was slower than usual, owing to the amount of snow that had fallen overnight. Stephen had been right-there was no one to be found on campus save for one security guard, but he gave a nod to Stephen in such a knowing fashion that Rory assumed there was an arrangement in place. 

The library was nearly frigid, the heat having been turned off over the holiday to conserve energy. Rory and Stephen could see their breath in front of them as they climbed the stone stairs, and the plain brown coat from Boo was not doing much to protect Rory from the temperature. Before she had a chance to complain, she felt warm fabric draped over her neck, Stephen placing his scarf there and wrapping it gently around her head without a word. 

“He’s usually down one of these aisles,” she explained, the lights clicking on as they passed each shelf. 

“But you don’t see him yet?” Stephen asked quietly, scanning the stacks as they passed. 

“Why are you asking if-“ Rory stopped walking, the answer falling into place. “You’re afraid you can’t see them anymore.” 

At first, he didn’t respond, but after a few more steps he stopped and turned to face her. “We don’t know what causes The Sight. All we know is the shared experience of near-death.”

“But now you’ve had…well, more death than near.”

“I don’t know what I am anymore. If I’m alive, or a ghost, or…”

Rory rushed forward and placed a hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. 

“You are alive. I watched you die, but then I watched you come back. You are here, with me, and you’re not leaving us again.” 

She stood up on tiptoes, having to reach quite far to gently plant a kiss on his forehead. She went back down, Stephen’s head following hers for a more substantial kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist, their kiss deepening until the sound of a voice came from the aisle nearest to them. 

“You know, there are other places on this campus to do your snogging.” 

Both Rory and Stephen’s heads whipped around to the aisle, tension leaving Stephen’s body as they both saw Alistair, stretching out with his book on the floor. 

“See? Everything’s fine,” Rory told Stephen, running her thumb along Stephen’s cheek before letting him go. “Sorry, Alistair, we were just checking something.” 

“Whatever,” Alistair shrugged, going back to his book.

 

The two of them left Wexford, the snow continuing to fall in droves on the people of London. The streets were busy with those doing last minute Christmas shopping, and the sight ignited a thought in Rory’s head. 

“Guess I won’t be going home for Christmas this year.” 

“Stuck with us, I’m afraid,” Stephen confirmed, negotiating a slick turn in the small car. “Thorpe decided we should lay low through the holidays-wait for this business to blow over. Not like I have anywhere better to go anyway.” 

Stephen’s family was a subject that Rory did know a little of-his parents were essentially absent his entire life, having shipped him off to boarding school from the time he was young and dreading any time they were actually forced to spend with him. His sister, Regina, was the only relative of which he’d ever been close, and she had died of an accidental overdose when he was a young teen. 

“I suppose there’s worse company to have,” she replied with a smile. “We should make Christmas dinner-I think everyone could use a little normalcy.” 

“I wouldn’t know what normal is like-I’ve spent Christmas alone for over ten years,” Stephen added, trying to appear unaffected by this fact. “I usually just do takeout and trash telly.”

“Absolutely not,” Rory argued. “We’re doing it right-turkey, gravy, ugly sweaters, all of it…”

“I don’t have ugly sweaters.” 

“That is debatable,” Rory teased, laughing before she realized they had passed the turn to get back to their current home. “Are we not going back?”

“Thorpe wanted me to get you and Freddie a bit more training when possible,” he explained. “I told Callum to do some hand-to-hand with Freddie today, and I’m taking you.” 

As he finished his sentence, he pulled the car into an underground garage, “LONDON MET” written in brightly painted letters across the concrete. Stephen flashed some sort of identification to the guard at the window before being waved through, the two of them parking and heading to the small elevator. 

“Should be pretty quiet-only a skeleton crew work during the holidays-even the criminals can’t be bothered to do anything.”

“So you’re an actual cop?” Rory asked as they stepped onto a fairly abandoned floor. 

“I have a badge, I’m on the payroll, I have a gun, and that’s all the other police know about me,” he explained, using his ID at a card reader to access another long, empty hallway. “They all think I’m MI5 or something, and that’s fine as long as they let me do what I need to do.”

The next door required both his badge and an access code, and Rory understood why as soon as the heavy door swung open. Several drawers containing small handguns were locked in a glass cabinet, and Stephen addressed her as he opened it and removed one. 

“In our line of work, we usually don’t find much need for these, but with Sid and Sadie…” he trailed off, putting the gun in her hand. “It’s not loaded yet, but still never point it at anything you’re not ready to kill.”

“Stephen, no-I don’t like this,” Rory complained, shaking her head and trying to hand it back to him. 

“I’m not asking you to carry one all the time,” he told her, putting two magazines of ammunition into his pocket. “But if anything happens to me, I need to know you can protect yourself.”

“Where am I going to get a gun?” she asked, annoyed that he seemed to be making this decision for her. In answer, Stephen pulled his shirt up to reveal a small pistol sticking out of the waistband of his jeans. 

“I know it’s going to sound rather old fashioned, but it is actually my job to protect you.” 

Rory hadn’t forgotten his explanation of The Shadow Cabinet and their sworn mission to protect the termini, of which she either now was one or at the very least had part of one within her. 

“We’ll just do a quick lesson, and then back home,” he explained, righting his shirt and holding his hands up placatingly. 

He led her into the next room, his voice echoing in the vast open space of a shooting range. “Ear protection first,” he told her, handing her one of the pairs of padded headphones hanging from a hook inside the door and putting a pair on himself as well. They stepped to one of the empty lanes, although they had their choice in the empty range. Stephen took the gun out of her hands and placed one of the clips in the bottom, sliding it into place. Putting it back in her hands, he went around behind her, his arms going around her body to lead her hands to the right position. “Two hands, straight out in front of you. Both eyes open.” 

Rory sucked in a breath at the closeness of Stephen’s body to hers, a chill running all the way up and down her form even though he was warm against her. She tried to relax, but soon Stephen’s face was against hers on the right side, his voice breathy in her ear. 

“Focus on the target in front of you. Try to keep your hands steady.” His hands were over hers, and Rory knew he had to feel the way she was shivering beneath him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the hint of a grin in his voice, as if he knew the effect he was having on her. “When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger gently.” 

The noise was much louder than she was expecting despite the ear protection, and she jumped and screamed the moment the gun went off. At the other end of the range, the paper-man fluttered in the breeze left by the bullet, no mark upon the target at all. 

“Well, you didn’t hit him, but he probably needs a new pair of pants,” Stephen teased, letting her go and chuckling beside her. 

“Oh shut up, like you’re some crack shot from the movies or something,” Rory whined, rolling her eyes. Without looking away from her, Stephen took the gun, held it out with one hand, and fired five successive shots. He didn’t blink once. When Rory opened her eyes, the man on the paper at the end of the range had four perfect holes in the direct center, and one in the middle of his forehead. 

“Want to try again?” Stephen asked, hiding his smirk poorly and raising one eyebrow. 

 

By the end of their practice, Rory was able to fire the gun without closing her eyes as much, and had at least hit the target once. At the very least, she knew how to remove the safety and put a new clip in. Stephen locked the gun back in the cabinet after they were finished, adjusting the one in his waistband as they walked the empty hallways. 

He showed her the various areas of the precinct-the dispatch office and where they kept the extra uniforms, and throughout the short tour Rory had the impression that Stephen had never had the chance to show off his job or skills to anyone before. His sister was dead long before and his parents didn’t care. 

“What’s that room right there?” Rory asked, having a devilish idea as she pointed to what was clearly a storage closet. 

“That? Oh, that’s just a broom cupboard. It-“ Rory stopped him by opening the door and yanking him inside by a handful of his shirt, and she had to hold back a giggle at the small yelp of surprise he made as she kicked the door shut with her foot. He looked completely lost as to her intention until she backed him against the wall, kissing him deeply with her hands still knotted in his shirt. He was tense at first, but she felt the exact moment he let go and allowed himself the moment, blowing a deep breath out through his nose without missing a beat. She felt him reach up and take off his glasses, tossing them to the side before turning her around and pressing her against the wall instead. 

Considering Rory had half-expected him to scold her for being irresponsible, she was surprised when instead he seemed to take control of the moment. Where their kisses had previously been sweet and unhurried, this time they were hungry-like Stephen had been holding himself back up to this point. He pulled back for just a moment, catching his breath, and Rory had a quick glimpse of his eyes. Dark on a normal basis, now they were almost black, with only a small ring of brown around the edge before he went back in for another kiss. His hands found their way along her hips, ghosting the edge of her shirt and touching the bare, cool skin there. His mouth strayed from her lips and down the side of her neck, leaving hot, wet spots where they touched and making her feel like she was on fire. 

She felt him slow and stop, his breath heavy and quick against her shoulder where he’d pulled her shirt aside there. It seemed like he was trying to convince himself to stop rather than lock the door and continue, and Rory could hear him take in a deep calming breath against her skin. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he admitted, still speaking against her shoulder. He eventually raised his head, the primal look in his eyes softened a bit as he grinned shyly at her. 

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked teasingly, taking her hands off his chest and wrapping them around the back of his neck instead. 

“No available broom closets, I suppose,” he joked, the two of them laughing softly in the dark of the closet. 

“You should laugh more,” Rory told him, running a finger across his lips as he continued to chuckle. “It looks good on you.” 

He kept smiling, but took a step back, making some space between them. “Come on, we should get back or the others are going to think something’s up.”

“Is something _up_?” Rory asked with a giggle and a raised eyebrow of her own, causing Stephen to flush a deep crimson, although she was pleased to see the smile didn’t fade. 

“You’re extremely childish,” he scolded her, but he kept one of her hands in his as they left the broom closet and headed out of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we never got enough steamy Stephen/Rory. This story is finishing itself in my head, so please be patient with me!


	4. Chapter 4

That evening, the usual gang of Rory, Freddie, Callum, and Boo sat watching television, Boo holding an ice pack over what was certain to be a black eye on Callum’s left side tomorrow morning. It had turned out that Freddie was more adept at hand-to-hand combat than anyone expected, and had demonstrated as such during their afternoon session while Stephen had been teaching Rory how to shoot. Luckily he had been a good sport about it, and had apparently made Freddie take a picture with him and his rapidly swelling face before Boo had taken over with the first aide. 

This had become a bit of a bedtime tradition for them, the four of them watching television while Stephen researched in the other room. Eventually, they would each get tired and venture off to their respective sleeping areas, and Stephen would still be there in the morning when they all got up. Tonight however, Freddie leaned down to whisper in Rory’s ear after a trip to the kitchen. 

“I think he’s finally passed out-you should tell him to go to bed,” she whispered, Rory whipping her head around at first until she realized Freddie meant he was sleeping. “He’ll listen to you.” 

Sure enough, she found Stephen snoring softly amidst pages and pages of notes and photocopies from books, his breath making the pages flutter slightly each time he exhaled. 

“Stephen…” Rory whispered quietly, resting a hand on his back and rubbing gently. “Stephen, come on-you’re going to be so sore if you sleep like that.” 

He woke up with a bit of a start, looking around with his red eyes as if surprised to find himself where he was. He rubbed his face with his hands and stretched, putting his glasses back on before taking them back off again when he couldn’t seem to focus. 

“No, just needed a quick rest-I’m fine now,” he argued, opening another book and starting to look through it. 

“Stephen,” Rory scolded delicately, closing the book and bringing her hand to run through his tousled hair. “You’re exhausted, you haven’t slept in days, and you’re going to make yourself sick if you don’t get some real rest.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead, noticing that he closed his eyes as she did it, seeming to gain comfort from the simple gesture. “I can sleep out here if you want me to.”

“That’s not it,” he told her, shaking his head and putting his hand over Rory’s that was resting on the table. 

“Then what is it?”

“I…” he started, swallowing hard before looking up at her from where he sat. “I’m afraid I’m going to go to sleep and not wake up again.” 

Rory’s other hand stilled in his hair-this was one of her own greatest fears. She remembered what it had been like the morning Boo had told her those fateful words.

_It’s Stephen. I can’t wake him up._

“I’ll stay with you,” she promised. “I’ll stay up all night if I have to-but it’s going to be fine. You’re alive. And I like you a lot more that way, so I think we should keep it for now,” she told him, trying to coax a smile from him. It worked a bit, and he appeared to give up the fight for the time being. 

“Okay. But I’m getting up early tomorrow to get another start on this,” he told her, standing up and putting his glasses back on. “There’s something here about all this ‘Rites of Demeter’ stuff, I know it. There’s something in the back of my mind that I just can’t seem to…”

“Sleep on it,” said Rory, still holding his hand and pulling him toward their shared room. “Come on, I’ll show you my Cousin Diane’s patented ‘Healing Angel’ sleep massage.”

“Should I be afraid or aroused?” he asked, Rory laughing at his joke. 

“Maybe just a bit of both,” she teased back, pulling him by the hand down the hall.

 

Rory woke up to noises she didn’t recognize, and the darkness of the room told her that it was still much too early to be up. She had fallen asleep reading a book while Stephen had dozed beside her, and the book was still on her chest, though the light from beside the bed was now off. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark, a quick look beside her showed the source of the noise as Stephen-he was on the opposite side of the bed, whimpering softly and tossing his head back and forth. 

She had blushed the night before when he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and climbed into the bed beside her, but he was obviously so exhausted that she felt more pity for him than anything else. Sure enough, he’d been out almost immediately and she hadn’t heard a sound out of him until now. His lack of a shirt meant she could see the thin sheen of sweat over his torso, and his brow was furrowed in concern as he mumbled something unintelligible between his whimpers. 

“Stephen…wake up,” Rory croaked, her voice rough from sleep. She shook his shoulders lightly, and Stephen sat up with a jolt, grabbing her wrist forcefully and calling out. 

“It’s me! Stephen, it’s Rory! You’re having a nightmare-you’re okay!” It took him a moment to come back to himself, his eyes confused as he looked at Rory in the dark. He let go after only a moment and leaned over to turn the bedside light on. In the light, Rory could see his entire body shaking. 

“I know what they’re trying to do,” he said, gulping and looking at Rory with the most serious expression she’d even seen. “Sid and Sadie-I know what they’re trying to do, and we have to stop them. Rory, they’re going to kill hundreds of people.”

 

Stephen was out of bed and down the hall before Rory could stop him, Boo running into the room as Rory was untangling herself from the sheets. 

“What’s wrong? We heard shouting,” she asked in a panic, taking in the sight of Rory in her pajamas nearly falling out of bed. 

“Stephen was dreaming…he said he knows what Sid and Sadie are doing,” she told her, the sound of Stephen and Callum yelling coming down the hall.

“What are you doing, mate?” Callum shouted as Stephen rifled through the papers on the table. “It’s bloody three o’clock in the morning!”

“The Rites of Demeter,” Stephen replied in answer, opening a book and pointing at a passage. “‘To elevate man above the human sphere into the divine and to assure his redemption by making him a god and so conferring immortality upon him (1).’”

 

Stephen shut the book and slammed his fist down on the table. “They’re trying to make themselves gods. They think they found a way to become immortal.”

“Right, that’s great that you figured that out, mate, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now,” Callum told him, holding up a hand in a peacemaking gesture, trying to calm Stephen. “Let’s go back to bed-we’ll come up with a plan in the morning.”

“Don’t you understand? They’re going to sacrifice people, Callum! They’re going to kill more people!” Stephen was shouting now loud enough that Rory could see lights coming on across the street, and she briefly worried that someone would call the cops until she realized there was probably some sort of standing order not to enter this particular home. 

“Right, but we don’t have any sort of leads as to where they might be,” Boo tried to reason with Stephen, but it was clear by her wide eyes how nervous she was at the situation. 

“We don’t have time!” Stephen shouted. “They could already be gathering people for their next ritual-we have to call Thorpe and-“

“We’re not doing anything while you’re like this,” Rory interrupted him, stepping further into the room and trying to take control. “You’re practically dead on your feet-again-because you haven’t slept. You’re not being rational right now.”

“She’s right, mate,” Callum agreed, lifting a hand to try to push Stephen back toward the bedroom. “Now go back to bed before I put you there.”

“I’d really like to see you try,” Stephen hissed, and Rory had the odd feeling that he’d said those words before to someone who tried to stop him. 

What happened next seemed to take forever, when in reality it was over in a heartbeat. Stephen stepped forward toward the front door, Callum putting up both hands defensively to stop him from leaving. What should have become a scuffle became nothing as Stephen lurched forward to hit the wall, Callum still standing in the exact position he’d been in before, but with Stephen behind him.

Stephen had gone right through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) (Nilsson, Martin P. Greek Popular Religion “The Religion of Eleusis” New York: Columbia University Press, 1947. Pages 42-64)


	5. Chapter 5

There was a brief moment of stillness while they all stared at Stephen, wide-eyed and flabbergasted. 

“What in the bloody hell just happened?” Callum asked, still facing the rest of the group with Stephen behind him. Stephen was staring at his own hands like he was preparing for them to disappear any moment. “He…he just…he went right through…”

Rory was the first one to move, stepping up to Stephen and placing a hand on his chest-his very solid chest. “It must be some side-effect…you’re all right.”

“All right?” Stephen asked, his voice shaking as he continued to look at his own hands. “I just went right through Callum. Like a…like a…”

“Like he was a ghost,” Freddie finished for him, staring at him more in fascination than in terror like the rest of the group. Boo had stepped forward now too, giving Callum and Stephen both a fairly sturdy knock on the head with each of her hands. 

“Ow!” They both shouted at once, Stephen stopping his wide-eyed staring to hold his head. 

“You seem completely solid now,” Boo said, shaking her head and looking to Rory. 

“Freddie,” Rory stated flatly, trying to stay calm. “Go call Thorpe. Tell him to bring Dr. Marigold as soon as possible.”

 

After an extremely thorough examination, Dr. Marigold took off her stethoscope and shook her head. She’d been giving Stephen a complete workup for the last thirty minutes, but nothing had sounded out of the ordinary aside from the fact that half an hour ago he had briefly been non-corporeal. 

“You’re the healthiest young man I’ve ever examined, Mr. Dene,” she answered him with a note of skepticism in her voice. “Your blood pressure and heart rate are a bit elevated, but from what you said it sounds like it’s due to some situational panic. Now, are you all sure of what you saw? You said yourselves everyone was tired.”

“I know what I saw and felt, yeah?” Callum piped up, still quite shaken by the entire event. “He went right through me like one of…like one of them.”

“We can’t rule out some sort of bodily response to the events that took place last week,” Thorpe finally spoke up from across the room, where he had been observing in silence. “The question is if you think you can replicate it?”

“It happened so fast,” Stephen admitted. “I was…angry. I wanted to leave.” 

“Perhaps it’s an emotional response,” Dr. Marigold suggested, looking to Thorpe with a raised eyebrow. 

“Some sort of physical manifestation of non-corporeal phenomenon.”

“Stop talking about him like a science experiment,” Rory interrupted, standing in front of Stephen and reaching back to hold one of his hands. It was shaking-she’d never seen him this spooked. “It’s not like this hasn’t happened before. We know it’s possible for weird things to happen-remember your other team member who can make ghosts go poof with just a touch?” She held up Stephen’s hand where she held it, demonstrating their contact. “He’s obviously not a ghost or he would be gone just like the others. Now, I’m no doctor, but I think everyone is pretty shaken right now. Thorpe, please tell Stephen he can’t go rushing off to anything right now.”

Stephen had explained to Thorpe his theory on Sid and Sadie as soon as he had calmed enough from his event, and Thorpe had listened intently as he explained.

“Rory is right, Dene. We had some indications that their intentions had to do with this, but it doesn’t change the fact that we have no leads as to their whereabouts.”

“But I have to get out there and do something.” 

“You will stay and do as you’re told, Agent Dene. That is an order.”

Stephen immediately shut up, and Rory tried to remember if Thorpe had ever referred to him as an “agent” before. 

“Doctor, perhaps you can provide Stephen with something for his nerves. I expect you all to be rested and ready for a team meeting tomorrow evening. Until then-rest. I don’t want you getting upset and falling through the floor or something.”

There were sheepish nods all around, including, to Rory’s fascination, Stephen’s. He barely flinched when Dr. Marigold gave him an injection, everybody beginning to disperse to their respective rooms. 

Rory was the last out, Thorpe stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, please.”

 

Stephen was sitting on the edge of the bed when she returned to the room they shared, staring at where his hands lay on his lap. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” she assured him, closing the door softly behind her. “Just another notch to add to our weirdness is all.” She was trying to make him smile, but one look at his face in the darkness of their room was all it took for her to realize that he was much more upset than he let on. She saw a tear drop from his face onto his lap, and when he finally looked up at her, she could see he was crying. 

“Rory…I’m scared,” he told her, his face crumpling slightly. “Really, properly scared.” 

She rushed forward and pulled his head against her chest, hugging him where he sat on the bed. He wrapped his arms around her waist and sobbed quietly into her stomach while she ran her fingers through his dark hair. 

“I know you’re scared,” she whispered to him in the dark. “But we’re going to get through this together. Fear can’t hurt you, remember? Jo told me that.” 

“Jo’s dead,” he whimpered, head still buried in her shirt. 

“But you’re not,” she told him, pulling his face away from her and forcing him to look at her. She took his hand and placed it against his own throat. “Feel that? Twice now that pulse has tried to go away, but it hasn’t succeeded. Still there. Still going strong.”

He sniffed and flicked his eyes over her face, stopping back at hers in the end. 

“I think I might love you,” he told her quietly.

“I think you might be right,” she laughed, a tear of her own working its way down her cheek. “But I happen to know that I love you.” 

She lowered her head then so she could kiss him, this kiss feeling like they were finally in agreement about something they’d both thought for a while now. They kissed for several minutes, only breaking apart when Stephen had to shake his head. 

“I…I want to keep going, but…”

“But if you don’t lie down soon you’re going to fall down,” she finished for him, giving his hair one more little tousle. “Soon. Come on, knowing Marigold she hit you with an elephant tranquilizer.”

 

Everyone was groggy the next morning when Rory went into the kitchen, no one having slept well except for Stephen, who was still snoring off the effects of whatever it was that Marigold had provided for him the night before. Thorpe was the only one dressed, as was becoming customary for their meetings. 

“I trust you’ll relay everything I have to say to Dene once he wakes up?” he asked Rory, the team assembled around the small kitchen table. 

“Yeah-I’d go wake him up, but it’s been a while since he’s had any sleep, so…” 

“No, I agree-plus, I have an assignment for the two of you that could take a couple days.”

“Oh?” Rory was still getting used to being a member of the team and not just some teenager who needed protection from rogue ghosts. 

“I’ve arranged for the two of you to interview one of the foremost Greek scholars in the country,” he explained. There was something about the way he refused to look at Rory that told her there was more to this assignment than he was saying. 

“Oh….kay,” she replied, drawing out the answer. “So we’re going to go talk to someone who studies these Elu-whatever mysteries?”

“Eleusinian Mysteries,” Stephen furnished, showing up at the door to the kitchen in his sweats and and old sweater. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. At the moment, he looked more like he was twelve rather than nineteen, and the stubble on his cheeks had finally reached the point where it was more of a beard than stubble. 

“Mate, you look like you got hit by a truck,” Callum supplied, standing up to turn the coffee machine back on for Stephen. 

“If I had been, there’s no telling if I would have just gone through it anyway,” he sighed, his joke falling flat as everybody was still too on edge from the events of the previous night. 

“Yes, during your time away perhaps you could try tapping into this new…talent,” Thorpe suggested. “It could prove to be an asset-much like Rory’s gift.”

“Away?” he asked, accepting the mug of coffee Callum handed him and taking a swig of it black. 

“Thorpe was just telling me we were going to interview some Greek guy,” Rory answered, nodding for Thorpe to continue. 

“David Leicester,” Thorpe replied. “Premier scholar on Greek studies at Eton College.”

There it was. The reason why Thorpe was dancing around this assignment. 

“Eton?” Boo asked, everybody’s face falling as they looked at Stephen, except for Freddie. 

“What’s the big deal about Eton? Did you go there Stephen?” She asked completely innocently, having no idea about the weight of the situation. 

“Right-when do we leave?” Stephen asked, steamrolling past everyone’s discomfort and going straight for the facts. 

“Immediately, if you’re up to it,” Thorpe answered, the two of them saying much more with their eyes than their mouths. “A room has been booked for you at the Sir Christopher Wren hotel.”

At that Stephen raised an eyebrow questioningly, seeming to know something everyone else didn’t. 

“We wanted you to have a place in the event you need more than one day to research,” Thorpe supplied, although Rory made a mental note to ask Stephen later what he thought the real reason was. “I suggest you both pack enough for a few days in case. Dr. Leicester is expecting you tomorrow morning-he agreed to come in during the holidays.”

 

“How are you feeling?” Rory asked as Stephen shoved a few shirts into a bag, more clothes spread out on the bed as he packed. 

“Fine-I think the sleep did me some good,” he answered, nodding as he attempted to fold some pants before they were shoved in the bag in the same way.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” Rory replied softly, watching his face for any hint of emotion.

“What? How am I feeling about going back to the place where I tried to kill myself? The place that I despise more than anywhere in the world? Where my life came down around me? Oh, I’d say I’m feeling great, considering,” he answered, shorts getting passive-aggressively shoved into his bag next. 

“You’re allowed to not be okay,” she answered, stopping him from the tirade he was having over his clothes. “It’s a big step for you. I take it you haven’t been back since?”

He shook his head silently, refusing to look at her and letting a deep breath out of his nose. “For me, that place is where everything fell apart. It’s where I lost everything. She didn’t die there, but…it’s where I lost her.”

“I didn’t know Regina,” Rory said quietly, taking Stephen’s face in her hands and making him face her. “But I think she’d want us to figure this out-for your sake.”

He softened slightly, letting out another breath. “She would have liked you. Would have said that you make me less…me.”

“No one can make you less you,” she laughed, thankful for the comment. “I wouldn’t want you to be any less you anyway. But we have to figure this out, and I think this is a good place to start.”


	6. Chapter 6

Stephen drove, and for this Rory was extremely thankful. London traffic was ridiculous in her opinion, and it gave her a hefty dose of anxiety to watch him weave in and out of the traffic while the ground was almost completely covered in snow. Luckily for her, once they were out of the city proper, the scenery became much more picturesque. Tall buildings opened up to tree lined roads and elegant brick buildings. It became obvious the closer they got to Eton as Stephen’s hands became more and more tense on the wheel. They had already made the plan to stop on the campus first. They would go to the boathouse-they both knew Stephen wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until he’d made his peace with the place where his life had almost ended the first time. 

Despite it’s heavy meaning, Rory was still amazed at the beauty of the campus-the aged dormitories and castle-like structures. She was so in awe that she barely noticed when Stephen pulled into a small parking area, put the car in park and sighed. “We walk from here. It’s cold-do you need my coat?”

“No, let’s go.”

Rory tried to give Stephen some space as they walked through his old stomping ground, but the moment they were within reach, he reached out to hold her hand. They walked through the snow-covered campus hand-in-hand, Stephen’s face giving nothing to tell Rory what was going on inside his head. She didn’t even know they were approaching the water until he stopped, looking straight ahead at a sandy brick building with blue bay doors up and down its length. 

The boathouse.

“Do you want some time alone?”

“No,” he answered quickly, squeezing her hand in his. “I…I don’t want to be alone.” 

They walked forward, Stephen seeming less and less sure-footed as they grew closer. They went up to one of the large dock doors, Rory unable to tell any difference between them. With a shake of the handle it was obvious that it was locked. Stephen stood up on his tiptoes and ran his hand along the upper molding of the door, until his hand knocked over a key. 

“Some things never change, I suppose,” he sighed, putting the key in the lock and opening the door. 

She wasn’t sure what she had expected-some sort of neon sign exploding with “STEPHEN ALMOST DIED HERE” and a pointing arrow or something-but it was…simple. Long boats and oars covered the walls, and the evidence of young boys were strewn about the floor-books, blazers, and empty soda cans. She wasn’t even sure if he knew where he was going until he stopped and looked up. Above them, the ceiling was high and criss-crossed with old beams of ancient looking wooden supports. There, right in the center, was one beam that didn’t match the others. 

“They must have replaced it,” he muttered quietly, almost too softly to be heard. “I imagine I did a number on the structural integrity.” He walked to the corner of the small, dusty room, putting his hand against the wall where a thick rope was coiled on a spool, ready to be unwound and tied to the end of a boat. 

“I was so sure at the time. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to be anywhere she wasn’t.” 

Rory stayed silent, heartbroken but eager to hear any details of the life Stephen had before the Shades, before her. 

“You know the last thing I said to her?” he asked, not really hoping for an answer. “I told her I couldn’t talk because I was late for a Latin revision. I didn’t even want to take Latin. My father forced me because he claimed all barristers needed it. I didn’t talk to her because of him.”

Rory crossed slowly, reaching a hand out to tentatively place it on Stephen’s back. 

“I hate everything about him and my mother. They are the most awful people on the planet. I’ve struggled for five years with the thought that it should have been them. They should be the ones that died. Why do they get to stay, but she had to go?”

“I don’t have an answer for you,” Rory answered, tears streaming down her cheeks and threatening to freeze in the frigid air. 

“If it hadn’t been for him…for Peter…I would be dead too,” he said, voice shaking. “I would have died here. I would have died, and never met you.” He turned around, his own eyes red and glassy with tears. “I’m glad it happened. Because you’re the only thing in my life that’s made it worth living since then.”

She stepped forward and threw her arms around his shoulders, and the two of them embraced so tightly Rory thought she would never breathe properly again. 

“Don’t say that,” she whispered when he finally relaxed enough that she could speak. “You keep the world as we know it safe. You protect people every day and they don’t even know it. It sounds ridiculous, but you’re like a freaking superhero.”

Stephen chuckled at that, reaching up to take off his glasses so he could wipe his eyes. “Wish my father could hear you say that.”

“Your father is lucky he’s not here to hear me, because if he was I’d kick him right in the nuts.” He laughed again, harder this time. 

“I would pay a substantial amount of money to see that, Aurora Deveaux,” he laughed, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

“Don’t call me that-Dorian,” she countered, glad to see him smiling once more. 

“Touché,” he replied, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before taking one more look around the boathouse. “I’ll take you out on the water one day. Summer. When it’s warm. It really is beautiful.” 

“I look forward to it,” she answered, taking his hand again and allowing him to lead her out of the boathouse and away from the place where he became who he was.

 

 

Rory nursed a slight shiver on their way to their lodgings for the evening-not due to the cold, but due to the fact that in a few minutes she would be sharing a hotel room with Stephen. Alone. They had made out a fair share of times by now and even shared a room back at the flat, but somehow the implications of a hotel made her feel nervous and excited. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she exclaimed when they pulled up to an enormous brick building, white columns standing tall at an entrance that looked more appropriate for a member of the royal family rather than a girl from Louisiana. “This is our hotel? Has Thorpe never heard of the The Holiday Inn?”

Stephen sighed and parked the car, waiting for a moment in the driver’s seat. “Thorpe is the exact reason we’re staying here. Contrary to his secret-agent act, he can actually be an obnoxious knob at times.” 

When Rory looked at him with confusion, he sighed again and turned to her with exasperation. “This is a known honeymoon locale. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were rose petals scattered over our bed.”

Rory tried and failed to control the blush that rose to her cheeks, and she was thankful for the cold air on her flaming face when she opened the door to get out. 

“Thorpe? Our Thorpe? Tall, white-haired guy?” She teased, laughing nervously. 

“The very same. Well, you know what we have to do, right?”

“What?” She replied in embarrassment, having a feeling that Stephen did not have the same “thing” in mind that she did at the moment. 

“We’re going to act like obnoxious newlyweds and then tell him all the hairy details after, of course.” He grinned, a smile that was reserved only for Rory as he held out one hand to lead her into the hotel. 

 

“Room for Dene?” Stephen inquired at the counter inside while Rory gaped in amazement at the foyer of the hotel. Above a dining room draped in all the finishings of a royal banquet hung a beautiful blown glass chandelier, the lights twinkling down and reflecting off the dimming light from the sunset along the river outside. 

“Ah, welcome Constable Dene,” the hostess replied with a smile. “We hope you and your wife enjoy our Windlesham Room.” Stephen rolled his eyes at that, much to the confusion of the hostess as he took the key from her, turning back to Rory. 

“Ready, darling?” He asked teasingly, drawing out the name enough to make Rory giggle. The hostess watched them uncertainly as they walked toward the stairwell and up to their room.

For about the fifth time since entering the building, Rory was stunned the moment Stephen opened the door to their room. Inside was a suite large enough for a small army, let alone two people. Dark wood studded a luxurious sitting room, and at the center was the largest bed Rory had ever seen-it’s dark red linens looking soft enough to sink into for miles. 

“Well, no rose petals,” Stephen sighed. “I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.” 

“Then look in the bathroom and I think you’ll feel better,” Rory laughed, stifling a giggle behind her hand as Stephen followed her in. The bathroom was larger than her room at Wexford, and at one end stood a spa-styled bathtub, large enough for two people to bathe comfortably with room to spare. A collection of bubble baths and soaps lined the small shelf beside it, but what had drawn Rory’s giggles was a container of ice, a bottle of champagne nestled inside of it with a note.

/Congratulations. Enjoy. -Thorpe/

“I’m going to kill him when we get back,” Stephen said flatly as Rory continued to laugh whole-heartedly now. “I’m going to kill him, resurrect him, and then kill him again.” 

“Calm down,” Rory replied, easing her laughter and leaning against him for a hug. “I mean, he could have put us in some dump as a joke. At least he took the high end at our expense.”

“Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Stephen mumbled, clearly still miffed but softening with Rory pressing against his side. 

“Pressure? For what?” She asked, furrowing her brow in question and showing surprise when Stephen looked nervous. 

“Well…you know,” he answered with a small gulp, gesturing toward the tub and the champagne. 

“What, are you twelve?” Rory laughed, pulling him by the hand back into the huge adjoining bedroom. She turned on the lamp beside the bed before pushing him playfully onto it, both of them still in their coats and scarves. “We are two consenting adults,” she said with a grin, climbing on top of him and holding a finger to his mouth when he started to protest. “Yes. Eighteen, remember? No, you don’t, because my birthday was actually while you were dead. I forgot to mention.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, pulling her finger away from his mouth. 

“What? While you were dead? Well, there was the pesky corpse to be bothered with,” she teased, earning another roll of his eyes. “Anyway, whatever we do… or don’t do…is our choice. No one else. There is no pressure for anything, you got that?”

This time he nodded without protest, closing his eyes for a moment before stretching up to give her a brief peck on the lips. 

“Just promise me that Boo doesn’t get all the details,” he sighed. “I don’t need her knowing all my dirty secrets.” 

“Oh, I’m learning dirty secrets, am I?” Rory teased, leaning down to kiss him deeper this time. There was a promise of more before Stephen’s phone rang in his pocket, the two of them breaking apart and Rory rolling off of him to take off her coat. 

“Dene,” Stephen answered the phone, pulling off his own coat and draping it over one of the plush sofas in the sitting area. “Yes. Yes, I know. Okay. Hm. Interesting.”

Hearing only half of the conversation, Rory watched his forehead crinkle more and more as he apparently heard more and more information. She assumed he was talking to Thorpe, and she was tempted to rip the phone out of his hand and thank him for what was promising to be an interesting evening before he hung up and looked at her in surprise. 

“Turns out Sid and Sadie Smithfield-Wyatt weren’t always called that,” he explained, sitting on the sofa and pulling a notebook out of his bag. “They were born Reginald and Victoria Davies in 1948 to British parents in Crete. Explains the origin of their Greek interest.” 

“Why change their names?” Rory asked, sitting beside him and looking at his notebook-the same one Freddie had deciphered while he was dead. 

“I don’t know. Thorpe said they had no criminal history, no familial issues, nothing. They simply changed their names and disappeared off the grid in 1973.” He sat his notebook on the table and leaned back, folding his hands and placing them beneath his chin as he thought. 

“You kind of like the mystery, don’t you?” Rory asked with a smile, watching him slowly crack a grin of his own. 

“It’s kind of what I always wanted to do,” he admitted. 

“You’re good at it,” she replied, beaming at him in pride. “I’m going to go downstairs and find us something to eat while you think.” When she left, she could have sworn she saw him grin to himself as he laid across the sofa to think some more.

 

“That took you a while,” Stephen mumbled from the sofa when Rory returned nearly twenty minutes later. “I was starting to get worried.” 

“Well, there isn’t much of a selection if you’re not into caviar and watercress,” she answered, getting her bag and starting to rifle through it for something. “Lucky for us, I brought part of my stash.” 

“Your stash?” Stephen asked in confusion, trying to peek into the recesses of her bag. He had taken off his glasses and untucked his shirt, the top couple buttons on his shirt undone. Rory had seen him plenty of times without a shirt, but for some reason that small triangle of skin made her feel like she was on fire right now. 

“Ah ha!” she shouted, pulling out the small white bottle of Cheese Whiz. “You, mister, are about to be educated in the lessons of western cuisine.” 

She bounded over to the sofa and sat beside Stephen, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up under her. She had managed to find a box of crackers at the small shop downstairs, and now she sprayed a small amount of the cheese product onto one of the fancy wheat circles. 

“That looks radioactive,” Stephen cringed, looking at the orange substance like it might bite him. 

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” she scolded, holding the cracker up to his mouth. He looked a little surprised at her feeding him, but leaned forward to take the cracker into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Okay…you have opened my eyes to beauty that is…” he picked up the canister, wiping the corner of his mouth with a finger while he read. “‘Processed cheese food.’”

Rory popped her own Whiz-topped cracker into her mouth, smiling back at him and offering him the box. “Jazza and I used to eat this stuff by the canister. It’s a comfort thing.”

“You never really said-how did she take the news?” Stephen asked, experimentally squeezing the nozzle on to his finger. 

“Better than I would have guessed,” Rory answered, topping another cracker and popping it into her mouth. “She didn’t go running for the hills or anything, so…” 

“Better than expected,” he laughed, repeating her words. “I never had the pleasure of getting to explain it to anyone who didn’t have The Sight before.”

“What do your parents think you do?” she asked, this time spraying the Whiz directly into her mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think they deserve to breathe the same air as you-I was just wondering…” 

“I called them shortly after I got recruited,” he shared, allowing Rory to pop another cracker into his mouth. “I told them I joined the police force, and I haven’t spoken to them since. It’s been two years. I actually considered having Thorpe call them and tell them I died, but I didn’t want to give them the pleasure.”

“They really don’t deserve you, you know,” Rory said quietly, shaking her head and giving him a small smile. “You are the most amazing person I have ever-“

“Stop,” Stephen chuckled, giving her a playful shove. “There is nothing special about me. I was…just in the right place at the right time.”

“I can’t believe how little you think of yourself,” Rory sighed, shaking her head. She leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, watching him close his eyes in response. “I guess I’m just going to have to think big enough of you for the both of us.” 

He leaned forward and closed his eyes, the kiss soft and chaste against Rory’s lips. He started to lean more, looking to deepen the kiss, before Rory brought up one hand and placed a small smear of Cheese Whiz on the tip of his nose. 

“Very mature,” he sighed, although there was a small smile on his face. He wiped off the orange goo and grabbed a tissue from the table. 

“Things were too serious,” she teased, laughing as he wiped off the Cheese Whiz. 

“Yes, because Cheese Whiz is the height of sensual aphrodisiacs,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. Rory blushed, leaning heavily against his side with a contented sigh. 

“Why does everything have to be so awkward?” she sighed, wrapping both of her arms around one of Stephen’s and hugging it to herself. 

“We don’t have to…do anything, you know,” he told her, lacing their fingers together. “If you don’t want…”

“I do want,” she told him, letting out another breath. “Do you?”

“Just because I died once doesn’t mean I’m not human,” he teased, looking over at her shyly. “I…um…I thought you should probably know…um…”

“Stephen, just talk to me, you don’t have to be uncomfortable,” Rory told him, patting their joined hands with her other. 

“I’ve been with other people,” he spat out, having the good nature to look embarrassed. “Right after my sister died…I did some things I’m not very proud of, but…but I went through a full health screening when I was recruited, and…and there hasn’t been anyone since-“

Rory shut him up with a kiss, relishing the way the tension seemed to leech right out of his body as they kissed. 

“I may not be your first, but I’d love to be your last,” she whispered quietly, and it took all of ten seconds for both of them to break into hysterical laughter. 

“Oh my god, that’s horrible,” Stephen laughed, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “Please tell me that’s a line from a movie or something?”

“Country-western music,” Rory laughed, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Gotta love it for its supremely cheesy one-liners.” 

Every time they thought they were done laughing they started again, both their faces turning pink and each trying to cover mouths and noses to prevent snorting. The only thing that was able to make them stop was when Stephen, completely lost in his laughter, fell through the sofa with a yelp. 

He rolled out of the way, their laughter stopping immediately as he looked up with her with wide eyes. “It…it happened again.” 

“Yes…I see that,” she stammered, staring back at him. “Are…are you okay?”

“I think so,” he mumbled, touching the backs of his hands and then his face, finding everything solid. “I feel…a little dizzy maybe.”

“That’s how I felt when I terminated that girl in the bathroom at Wexford,” she shared. “But why now?”

“Maybe…maybe it’s because I was experiencing a strong emotion?” he mused, shaking his head uncertainly. “The first time…I was mad at Callum…and now…I was…I was happy.” 

“Can you do it again?” Rory asked, holding a hand out to help him up from the floor. He took it shakily, standing up and looking down at his own hands. 

“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes and concentrated, his face looking pained but nothing else about him changing. 

“Maybe it’s like Peter Pan-you know, happy thoughts?” Rory suggested, feeling foolish. 

“I have an idea, come here,” he pulled her up to stand in front of him, eyes still closed in concentration. He bent down and kissed her hard, breaking apart and making a small, pained noise. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and through Rory. 

“Oh my god!” she shouted in surprise, jumping and covering her mouth with her hands. 

“I did it!” Stephen shouted from behind her, where he had turned solid again. “I did it! I…I don’t feel very good,” he mumbled, falling to his knees and holding his stomach. 

Rory knelt down at his side and put a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it gently. “It’ll pass. Just breathe.” She had felt the same when she had inadvertently terminated the ghost in the subway, although she’d actually puked right there on the spot. 

“It’s…it’s a very strange sensation,” he told her. “Like…you know when you sleep on your arm…and you wake up and that pins and needles feeling goes all through?” Rory nodded in understanding. “It’s like that…but everywhere.” 

“We should call Thorpe,” Rory suggested, pulling him up from the floor and helping him sit back down on the sofa. 

“No, please.” He reached out and stopped her hand from where it was going for his phone. “He’ll insist we come back tonight. I…I just want tonight to not think about it.”

She sat the phone back down and pressed a hand to the side of his face. “Constable Dene, are you asking me to shirk our responsibilities so we can share a PG-13 evening together?”

He smiled wistfully, recovering slowly from his experience. “I think I can do slightly better than PG-13,” he teased. 

“Says the man who goes see-through every time he has a dirty thought,” Rory laughed, running her finger along his cheek. “Fine…but if you disappear or something while we’re _in flagrante_ I’m going to scream.” 

“I love when you speak Latin to me,” he chuckled, bending forward for another kiss. “I’m fine now, I promise. I think…I think I can control it.” 

“Good,” she whispered, grabbing either side of Stephen’s shirt and pulling him forward. “Because before I’m done with you you’re going to have a lot of those thoughts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to see pics of the hotel where Rory and Stephen are staying:  
> https://sirchristopherwren.co.uk/bedrooms/signature-rooms/
> 
> And another for an image of the Eton boathouse:  
> http://www.architen.com/projects/eton-college-boat-house/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the "M" rating. If sexy-times are not your jam, you can skip to the next chapter without losing any of the plot.

Stephen’s eyes looked like they grew to the size of dinner plates, the soft brown color of them completely erased and replaced by black. He licked his lips, his breath coming out in soft pants as he looked up at Rory in what appeared to be awe. 

Later, Rory wouldn’t be able to explain where her sudden surge of confidence came from, but she figured it probably had something to do with the look that Stephen gave her at the moment. In one look, he appeared to worship the ground she walked upon. She was fairly certain if she asked him to jump out the window he’d do it without question, and come back inside to ask if he should do it again. 

“I…I didn’t bring any…” he began, licking his lips again and looking like he might explode if she stopped everything right there. 

“Well…you already told me your history, and I’ve been on the pill since I was sixteen, so…”

“Right. Good. So that’s…so that’s…sorted,” he nodded, like she’d just secured him an appointment with an accountant or something equally boring. 

“Stephen, relax,” she laughed softly, running a hand through Stephen’s hair. “You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.” 

“You’re not…nervous?” he asked, his voice shaking with nerves. 

“Not at all,” she lied, and in one smooth movement, Rory placed one leg on each side of Stephen on the couch, straddling him and settling against his lap. He wiggled for a just a moment in adjustment, but Rory had the distinct feeling of something vaguely more stiff than what would be considered a friendly attraction. “I trust you, and I know you’ll take care of me.” 

He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, but they eventually found their way to her hips, shaking slightly against her skin. “I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered quietly, nodding in agreement. 

If Rory had any nerves at all, they dissolved during that first kiss, and she felt like Stephen was the same. Where his hands started as shaky and uncertain, the moment they started kissing they were strong and warm against her sides, his fingertips on the skin above the waist of her jeans. Her hands were in his hair, each tug forcing a small moan from the back of his throat and she’d be lying if she'd said she didn’t continue for exactly that reason. 

Despite their position, the kissing had remained rather tame until Rory decided to get a little braver, giving an experimental grind of her hips against his lap. The effect was immediate, Stephen breaking the kiss and swearing softly with his forehead pressed against Rory’s. 

“That is not fair,” he mumbled, his voice about an octave lower than usual. 

“I don’t play fair,” Rory mumbled back, kissing him again and moving her mouth to the side of his face, his neck, his ears. She experimented with different touches and kisses, loving the different sounds and reactions she got-Stephen was sensitive to seemingly everything, and he was putty in her hands within moments. “Do you want me to stop?” she whispered into his ear, kissing the edge of it and eliciting a shiver through his entire body. 

“Don’t you dare,” he replied, picking her up in one fluid motion and flipping her over on the couch so he was hovering above her. His lips were on her neck, her shoulders, leaving small wet, burning spots on her skin. She panicked only slightly when she felt him tug her shirt up slightly, her scar exposed to the air and making her shiver for a completely different reason. 

“May I?” he asked gently, never taking his face far from hers. She just barely nodded, feeling him disappear from her face to kneel against her torso. He pulled her shirt up just to her chest, just high enough to see the entire scar without exposing her bra. Before she could say anything to stop him, he placed a soft kiss on the bottom of the scar and worked his way up, leaving no inch of it uncovered. 

Rory was going to complain, but before she had a chance Stephen returned to her face and ran a hand through her hair, brushing it behind her ear. “I don’t care how corny it sounds-you’re beautiful-every part of you.” 

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Rory giggled softly, pulling him down by the shirt and starting to unbutton the rest of the garment. When she got to the bottom, she had a brief moment of concern-this was exactly how he looked the night he died, minus the bandage that had been wrapped around his head. 

“Stop thinking about it,” he told her, giving Rory the feeling that he could read her mind. “I’m not going anywhere-you said it yourself.” He pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tossing it across the room without any care for where it landed. 

“Bed?” he asked, voice husky and eyes dilated. 

“Bed,” Rory agreed, letting him help her up off the sofa. She turned and pushed him toward the bed, the two of them laughing when he flopped down on it, pulling her on top of him and down for another kiss. Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled her own shirt up and off over her head, feeling slightly self-conscious as her bra was exposed. 

Stephen looked up at her in wonder, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. He put his hands tentatively on her hips again, silently asking for permission before letting them drift higher. Rory nodded, putting her hands on his as they slid up over her breasts, Stephen’s eyes snapping closed as he took in a shaky breath. 

They snapped back open when she gave another grind of her hips, this time moving them much more meaningfully against him. 

“Rory…” Stephen murmured, looking completely undone by her actions. She reached behind her, unhooking her bra and sliding it off before dropping it unceremoniously in his face with a giggle. The action seemed to loosen some of the tension, Stephen grinning and tossing it over the side of the bed before pulling her down against him for another kiss. They groaned into each other’s mouths at the feel of their bare chests against one another, and Rory used her newfound courage to further their situation a bit more with another gentle rock of her hips. 

“You keep doing that and this will be over before we get our clothes off,” Stephen laughed nervously, unable to control the slight rock of his own hips up to greet hers. 

“This isn’t about lasting a long time,” Rory laughed, her hair dangling in Stephen’s face. “Just…enjoy the moment.”

Their pace slowed after that, though their breath remained ragged and hurried, the two of them taking time to explore the other’s body slowly. At one point, Rory moved down to plant sloppy, wet kisses along Stephen’s chest, and she took a moment to appreciate the steady thump of his heart beating wildly beneath his skin. 

When she felt like she had him thoroughly debauched, she kissed down lower until she reached the top of his jeans. Stephen’s breath hitched as she unfastened his fly, and she could have sworn she heard him mumbling something under his breath as she reached a hand down and under his pants, grasping him in one hand. 

This was new ground for her, but even though her nerves were on high alert, she felt a rush of pleasure at the sound that Stephen made as she touched him. He opened his eyes again, the lids heavy as he looked up at her with nearly-black eyes. She gave a full-body shiver as his eyes laid on her, and he moved his hands to her arms and rubbed them gently. 

Without a word, he rolled them over again, pulling the covers down and helping Rory get under them. He gently removed her hand and disappeared under the covers with a sly grin, his head sticking back out after just a moment. He tossed his jeans and underwear aside, Rory laughing at his goofy grin before he disappeared again beneath the huge comforter. 

She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him gently tickling her sides as he pulled her jeans down her legs, and she giggled as he alternated between kisses and giggles over all the parts of her body that were under the covers. 

He reappeared for just a moment, long enough to toss the rest of her clothes off the side of the bed and hover over her once more. His devilish grin had been replaced by a soft, concerned glow, and Rory thought she could cry at how loved she felt in that exact moment. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, pulling one of her hands up in his and pressing his lips against her knuckles. “It’s not too late to say no.” He definitely didn’t look like he wanted to stop, but it still warmed her heart to know that he would if only she asked him. 

“I’m sure,” she answered, almost silently, no witty comeback this time as he nodded and adjusted himself into a more comfortable position for both of them. He gave her one final meaningful look, kissed her mouth, and then…he was there. 

They both shuddered and moaned, Rory’s hand coming up to cup the side of Stephen’s face as he looked like he struggled to make sense of the million and a half sensations he was experiencing at the moment. He moved slowly, Rory closing her eyes and biting her lip. She hadn’t expected a choir of angels to begin singing at this exact moment or anything, but she certainly wasn’t ready for the stream of emotions that hit her all at once. 

“Hey,” he whispered, getting her to open her eyes again. “Okay? I can stop,” he suggested, looking extremely concerned. 

“No!” she answered a little too quickly, bringing his face down to hers for another deep, steady kiss. “No…it’s…it’s amazing,” she said honestly. “It’s just…”

“A lot?” he finished for her, Rory nodding in agreement. 

“Just…go slow?” she asked sheepishly, Stephen nodding again and caressing her cheek with such care it almost made her want to cry. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he answered, moving slowly and getting another answering groan from both of them. 

Rory wasn’t stupid-she obviously knew the mechanics of sex-but what she wasn’t prepared for was the overwhelming experience of feeling like she couldn’t get close enough to Stephen, couldn’t touch enough of him, and couldn’t get enough of all of his sounds and movements. 

Hands were everywhere, mouths were everywhere, and at some point she because vaguely aware of Stephen murmuring her name over and over again before they both called out, a white hot flash making her feel like she was exploding from the outside in. After, he shook where he laid on top of her, Rory running her hands along the planes of his back-a thin sheen of sweat covering both of them. 

“I love you,” she whispered into the darkness of their room, knowing he heard her when she felt the unmistakable feel of his mouth smiling where it sat against her skin. 

“I love you too.” 

 

 

Rory had never had champagne before, but as she sat in the steamy water of the large tub, she thought it was definitely something she could get used to. There were certain elements to sex that they certainly didn’t show in the movies, but she was pleased when Stephen seemed to jump at the idea of putting the huge tub in their room to good use. He had pulled on his shorts and ran off, Rory hearing the water run shortly after, giving her a chance to take inventory of her body. 

She was sore, but the kind of sore that made her smile knowingly and pull the blankets up to her chin. She felt good, like she had something that was only hers, and she couldn’t help the goofy grin she had when Stephen bounded back into the room and grabbed her, carrying her like a baby into the bathroom and depositing her into the most ridiculous bubble bath she’d ever seen. 

“Someone’s peppy,” she teased, laughing as he shed his shorts and jumped in to the tub on the opposite side as her. 

“Just in a good mood, I suppose,” he teased back, pouring both of them a glass of champagne and passing Rory one. “Joke’s on Thorpe if he thought he was just doing all this to embarrass me.” 

“What if he actually wanted it to go this way?” Rory asked, sipping her champagne and grinning at him. 

“Then I owe him a drink,” he laughed.


	8. Chapter 8

Rory woke to the sharp, tinny sound of Stephen’s cell phone ringing in the morning, but she took a moment to survey her surroundings before she decided to fully wake up. She was lying on Stephen’s side, his right arm wrapped around her and her head pillowed on his chest. Her head rose and fell with his steady breaths, and she felt his arm come tighter around her when she started to stir. 

“Let it ring,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. 

“It might be the team,” she argued, dropping a kiss on the top of his head and reaching over the side the bed to get his jeans, pulling the phone out of the pocket. “It’s Boo,” she told him, trying to flatten her hair before she pressed ‘accept’ for the video call. 

“Morning, Boo,” Rory said in answer, making sure to hold the phone up so only her neck and face were visible. 

“Morning,” Boo answered, looking concerned. “We didn’t hear from you guys last night, so I was just making sure everything went okay. How’s Stephen?”

“Ask him yourself,” she answered with a grin, handing Stephen the phone and going back to lay against him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’d spent the night together. 

“Morning, Boo,” Stephen answered groggily, unable to help the smile on his face as Boo squealed on the other end of the phone. 

“I knew it! I knew it! Cal-get in here! You owe me another ten pounds!”

“What? No way, I-“ Callum’s face appeared on the phone, Stephen and Rory rolling their eyes at his reaction. “Nice job, mate-didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Stephen replied, but there was no anger in it at all. “If you two are done analyzing my sex life, Rory and I have some work to do today.” 

Boo squealed again, waving wildly on the phone before Callum clicked the phone off. 

“Well, there’s that cat out of the bag,” Rory chuckled lightly against Stephen’s skin. 

“I’ve been listening to Boo and Callum’s ‘will they, won’t they’ for a year and a half-I think they can handle this,” he sighed, pressing the button on the phone for the time. “We have to be back at Eton in an hour.” 

“Guess I’d better shower then,” Rory mumbled with a yawn and a stretch. She pulled Stephen’s shirt off the floor and draped it over herself like a dressing gown, walking to the bathroom with a bit of a shake in her step, knowing full-well that Stephen was watching her butt as she walked. She grinned when she got to the door, turning and catching him in the act. “Well? Are you coming?”

She’d never seen Steven move that fast.

 

 

“I have to admit, when I was asked to come in over the holidays, I was a little upset, but now that I know I have a preemptive Greek scholar on my hands, I’m happy to provide my services.” 

Professor Leicester was a short, squat man wearing a tweed jacket over a black turtleneck and who looked like he would jump off a bridge if it meant talking about his favorite subject. 

“Your editor tells me you’re writing on the Mysteries?” he asked, gleefully looking at Stephen like he wanted to adopt him as his own child. 

“Yes sir, I’m looking to publish on the effects of Greek mythological ceremonies on western culture,” Stephen lied easily, flashing a charming smile to the professor and making Rory make a mental note to take lessons from him. 

“Well, the Mysteries are certainly an interesting topic there,” he continued, sitting behind his desk and watching the two of them where they sat in front of him. Rory rather felt like she was in the principal’s office, and she had to shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. “As you know, the root of the ceremony involved the mother goddess Demeter and her search for her daughter, Persephone. You’re familiar, with the story, I assume?” 

“Of course,” Rory piped up, glad she actually had some clue about what he was mentioning. “Persephone was promised to the god of the Underworld, and Demeter tried to take her back but couldn’t because she’d eaten four pomegranate seeds. The four seeds represent the four winter months that Persephone had to go back to Hades.” 

“Quite right you are, my dear, only in the case of the Mysteries, Hades is often referred to by his Roman counterpart, Pluto or Plouton, as the scholars thought there to be power in the alliterative names,” the professor continued, oblivious to the look Rory and Stephen shared. 

Alliterative names. Pluto and Persephone. Sid and Sadie. It was looking like they had their answer as to why the twins changed their names. 

“As you also know, I’m sure, the Rites consisted of three parts: the descent, the search, and the ascent.”

“Representing Persephone’s journey to the Underworld, Demeter’s search for her daughter, and her return to the world above,” Stephen finished for him, Rory realizing what it had been that he had been researching all those hours back at the flat. 

“Right again,” the professor nodded cheerfully. “The followers believed that in reliving this ancient ceremony they might be able to pass into the realm of the dead and emerge as one protected from it. Immortal, without all the pesky responsibilities of the gods.”

All of this was hitting close to home for Stephen and Rory, who had experienced this ceremony first hand only weeks before. 

“However, what most people don’t know about the ceremony is that there is another who plays an important role. Eubuleus, or ‘wise counsel’ in the ancient tongue, was the one who led Persephone and Pluto from the Underworld. In the ancient Rites, this person would have to consume the kykeon, a special drink made from barley. Now, today we recognize that these drinks most likely produced a kind of psychotropic effect-causing those who consumed it to experience visions and hallucinations. It was believed that the person representing Eubuleus would be able to lead the others out of death itself, and thus allow them to be immortal.”

Rory’s head was spinning-Leicester had just described the entire ritual that Jane Quaint had forced her into weeks before-her playing the role of the one to lead Sid and Sadie out of their eternal sleep. Stephen had been an unfortunate by-product of the ceremony for Jane, but thankfully it had worked to restore him as well. 

“This Eubuleus,” Stephen asked Leicester. “Why isn’t he referred to more often? I’ve read all the literature and I haven’t seen anything on him.”

“Well, my boy, it was the belief of those participating in the ceremony that not only was Eubuleus able to lead those out of the Underworld, but he was the only one who could damn them back to it.”

There was a brief silence, Rory having to control her breathing as this information sunk in. It would have to be her that brought an end to Sid and Sadie. She would have to be the one to kill them. 

“Thank you professor,” Stephen replied with a nod. “Your information has been invaluable.”

They left the office and walked down the hall of the building, the two of them remaining silent as they mentally digested all they had just heard. They were nearly out of the building when a voice called to them, stopping them in their tracks. 

“Monsieur Dene?” A rather large woman stepped out of an office just before the door, Stephen’s face flashing a few emotions before resting on familiarity. 

“Madame Rivière,” he answered, nodding and giving her a slight bow. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“Oh, Stephanie, please-you’re hardly a student anymore,” she answered. “It’s been what, a couple years now?”

“Yes, two, that’s right,” he answered. It was becoming obvious that this teacher of Stephen’s had no idea what had happened to him, as she was conversing easily as though he were just back for a visit. 

“And what are you up to now? I just love hearing from my former students.”

“I…I’m a police officer. In London.”

“Ah! Un agent de police, merveilleux!”

“Thank you, Madame, I’m just returning for a short visit before going home for the holidays,” Stephen gave her a quick nod and began to leave once again. 

“I won’t keep you then. It was so nice to see you, Monsieur Dene.” He started to walk out the door before she called out one more thing.

“Votre femme est très belle!”

Stephen grinned, nodding in answer. “Oui, elle l’est. Je vous remercie.” 

Having no clue what just transpired, Rory followed Stephen out the door to the snowy grounds beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really taking some liberties with the mythology, but they've all been dead for thousands of years, so I doubt they would mind.


	9. Chapter 9

They arrived home to a quiet flat, Thorpe sipping tea from a mug near the front door while Boo watched television on mute. 

“Hey! Welcome back,” Boo piped, looking at Rory meaningfully and causing her to blush bright pink. 

“I take it your talk with the professor was a useful one,” Thorpe asked, looking to Stephen with purpose. 

“Sid and Sadie think they can become immortal,” Stephen confirmed, nodding at Thorpe. “But there’s a detail we had missed before.” He looked like he considered filling him in right at that moment, but instead he looked up, seeming to consider something else. “Where’s Callum?”

“In the shower, why?” Boo asked, confused when Stephen’s face broke into a wide and devilish grin. 

“Just a moment, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he explained cryptically, walking off toward the bathroom with his hands in his pockets. 

The three by the door stood in confusion for a moment, but soon Rory had her suspicions confirmed when they all heard a loud, high-pitched scream come from the bathroom.

“STEPHEN YOU COCK! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Stephen reemerged into the living room, his hair and shoulders flecked from water and his face red with hysterical laughter. He doubled over, practically falling to the floor as he giggled, Thorpe and Boo still clueless. 

“By the way, Stephen learned how to use his ghost-thing,” Rory told them, realization dawning on Boo’s face as she hid her own giggle. “Didn’t that hurt?”

“Yes, but it was so, so worth it,” Stephen gasped from the floor, eventually recovering and sitting on the sofa. 

“You can become non-corporeal at will?” Thorpe asked, Stephen nodding in agreement. “You realize that can become extremely useful in the future.”

“Yes, but it…takes a toll. And I have no idea what it does to my body,” he explained. “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could have Marigold set up an exam.”

“Oh, it’s on, mate! You’re gonna pay!” Callum appeared in the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. “You might be able to walk through walls but I know where you sleep at night!”

Stephen lost it again, and soon they were all in hysterics-minus Thorpe, of course, but Rory was fairly sure she saw him hide a small grin as he took another drink of tea.

 

“All right, Mr. Dene, are you ready?” 

Dr. Marigold was prepared with a stopwatch and clipboard, ready to start it the moment Stephen became a ghost. Stephen was standing in front of her, his shirt off and chest covered in monitors and electrodes. They stood in a lab, with several concrete walls hastily assembled in the middle. Thorpe and Rory stood off to one side, observing the tests while Marigold charted several results. Stephen nodded in preparation, and Rory could tell from his face that he was scared. 

“This time, I want you to go through the wall, wait a moment, and then go back through. We’re going to time how long you can stay non-corporeal.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. Dr. Marigold gave him the signal to begin, and Stephen closed his eyes. Rory had no idea what he was thinking about, but it must have worked, because Stephen’s form suddenly became blurry, almost like they were viewing him from underwater. His eyes opened, determination evident in them even though they were hard to see. He stepped through the concrete slab set up in front of him, his face twisting in pain as he turned around and stepped back through. His face contorted even more, and he let out a pained yell as he fell to his knees and became normal again. The monitors all began beeping wildly, and Rory rushed to his side to help him to his feet. 

Marigold made several notes on her clipboard, stepping forward to examine Stephen more closely. 

“There seems to be a sudden drop in blood pressure immediately following a transformation, coupled with increased heart rate-that’s why you feel so dizzy upon completion.”

Stephen nodded, breathing hard and leaning against Rory a bit more heavily than usual. 

“Other symptoms?”

“Nausea…headache…chest pain…” he answered slowly, looking sideways at Rory as if he were afraid she would scold him for doing this in the first place. 

“I’d like to run a full cardiac work-up,” Marigold explained. “CT, MRI, and X-Rays if you’re willing to spend a bit of time in hospital.”

“We’ll make something up,” Thorpe answered for him, nodding toward the invisible people Rory knew were watching on the attached cameras. “Until then, no more transforming-we’ll have you do it once before testing, but we need the control to be valid.”

Stephen nodded weakly, clearly not happy about the prospect of being a patient in the hospital, but too tired to put up any sort of a fight. 

 

An hour later they found themselves in the back of an ambulance, although all the people in it seemed to work for Thorpe. Stephen had been given shorts and a t-shirt to wear, and his head had been wet with some water from a bowl. 

“So, your name is Alex Casper, and you collapsed during a recent training session for the London marathon,” Thorpe explained, checking the papers he had in front of him. 

“Casper, seriously?” Rory asked, looking at Thorpe with derision. 

“I thought it was funny. Anyway, this is your loving wife, Jennifer-who is very concerned for her husband-here, put these on.” He handed each of them a gold wedding band, and each of them slid them onto their left hands without another word. “Marigold will meet you in the room, but no one will bat an eye at the tests she’s running.”

Rory was surprised how easy it was to fall into the fake identity she had been given, holding Stephen’s hand as he was wheeled into the hospital on a gurney. Monitors were set up, mostly the same as they had been earlier that day in the lab. They were left in the room alone within thirty minutes of his admission, and Rory was unnerved at the memories of the last time Stephen was laid out in the hospital. Thorpe came in after only a few minutes, followed by Dr. Marigold. 

“We’re going to go ahead and draw all the preliminary labs,” Marigold told him, laying out a collection of tubes and syringes. Rory was surprised when Stephen’s face blanched a little, and she wondered if he, the man who fought ghosts for a living, was afraid of needles. 

Marigold drew the blood herself, laying the tubes out on her small cart and handing Stephen a sterile cup. “Urine sample please,” she said in a strictly-business fashion. “I’ll give you another one for semen if you’re willing?”

Stephen tripped and nearly fell over on his way out of the bed, looking up with wide eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not if you’re willing to provide it,” she shrugged. “It would be interesting from a scientific point of view.”

“I think the blood and urine will suffice,” Thorpe saved him, giving Marigold a warning look. 

“You tell me to run tests, I’m going to go for the lot,” Marigold returned with a shrug, “Anyway, we’ll have you taken for all the scans, then we’ll have you do a transformation. We’ll allow the hospital staff to take over after the episode, at which time they’ll discover all the scans are missing and they’ll re-do them. That way we have before and after information.” 

Stephen nodded solemnly, clearly not looking forward to wearing himself down for the sake of these tests. He disappeared into the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later and handing her the specimen cup. Once she had cleared all her samples, she left the room, Thorpe on her heels. 

“Well, this is fairly humiliating,” Stephen sighed as he got back into the hospital bed, adjusting the leads and wires they had him hooked to. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I was looking forward to helping you get that semen sample,” Rory teased, earning a tired laugh from Stephen. She ruffled his hair, and he sighed heavily as he leaned his head into her hand. 

Nurses came to take him for all his necessary scans, Rory fairly certain Thorpe had pulled some strings to get him to the front of all the lines. When he returned, Thorpe and Marigold were already there, pulling the blinds to the room so no one could see anything that happened. 

“Okay, Stephen-we’re going to leave, then I want you to wait about ten minutes and do it. Try to stay non-corporeal for as long as possible to maximize the effect. Rory, a team will respond nearly immediately, so give him a signal to come back before any of them enter the room. Got it?”

The two of them nodded, Thorpe and Marigold leaving the room. They waited the suggested ten minutes, and Rory positioned herself at the door. When she gave him the signal, Stephen stood up-it wouldn’t be good for him to fall through the bed-and closed his eyes. His form began to shimmer, and the monitors immediately began going berserk. She watched the pained expression on his face, knowing it was hurting him to remain in this form. 

“They’re coming-switch back,” she told him, Stephen gasping as he became solid again and scrambling back into the bed. “He just got all pale and sweaty, then the alarms started going crazy!” Rory told the nurses who rushed in, Stephen getting surrounded as they all attended him. Stephen looked exhausted, and for a moment Rory wondered if it wasn’t a bad idea until she remembered this was actually the best place for him to be if it really was affecting his health. 

“Where…where are his scans?” the doctor asked when he entered the room, checking “Alex’s” chart. He huffed in frustration, re-ordering all the labs and scans Stephen had already had once today. 

Over an hour later, the tests had been run and Thorpe had re-taken control of the entire situation, but Stephen still looked ragged and worn. He usually bounced back by now, but this time he looked like he could use about a week’s worth of sleep. 

“You’ve been discharged,” Thorpe informed him. “Time to go home.” 

“Is that a good idea?” Rory asked, concerned, handing him back the fake wedding ring she’d been wearing. “He doesn’t look very good.” 

“Thanks,” Stephen deadpanned from the bed, his face pale and sweaty. “I’m fine, I just want to get out of here.” 

He wasn’t any better by the time they arrived home. As a matter of fact, he looked even worse. His face had never quite regained its color, and she noticed that he was shivering beneath his coat even though the car ride had been plenty warm. 

“Come on, I think you need to rest,” Rory told him, squeezing his hand and gesturing with her head toward their bedroom. 

“Yeah, mate, you’re not looking so hot,” Callum agreed, standing up just in case Stephen hit the floor. 

“Maybe they overdid it today,” Boo chided, shaking her head. “I’ll go make you some tea.”

Rory led Stephen to the bedroom, helping him out of his coat and into clean clothes. His eyes were already closing as she helped him lay against the pillows, and a quick caress of his forehead stopped her in her tracks. She placed her hand back on his head, a look of concern crossing her face. 

“You’re burning up. I’m calling Marigold back.”

When she arrived, it was with a sheaf of papers in hand. “I think I have the answer,” she told everybody as she entered the flat. “His white count plummeted after the event-opening him up for an opportunistic infection.”

“It trashed his immune system,” Thorpe explained, looking to Marigold for confirmation. She nodded, Rory stepping forward. She’d been at Stephen’s side since they got back, watching his fitful sleep until they’d called that the doctor had arrived. 

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yes, I think, eventually,” she answered. “But this means he’ll need to limit his use of his…gift. Otherwise, he’s risking opening himself up to an infection that could kill him. My best guess is he caught something at hospital, his body too weak to fight it off. I’ll draw more labs, but my guess is his white count will begin to rise with some rest and he’ll be feeling better in a few days.”

“So he gave himself the cold from hell,” Callum simplified, getting a nod from Marigold. 

“I’ll go warm up some soup,” Boo suggested. “Freddie, get the tea.”

For the next several hours, Stephen hung in the uncertain balance between awake and asleep, only opening his eyes long enough to accept whatever medication or food Rory could manage to get in him. During one of the times she sat beside his bed, he opened his eyes just as she was placing a cold cloth over his forehead. 

“You don’t have to stay here, I know I’m being pathetic,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“You’re sick,” Rory told him, gently blotting the sweat from his face and leaving the cloth draped over his forehead. “And for once, you're out of commission for something out of your control, not because you jumped in front of a bus or something.” 

“What does Marigold think is going on?” he asked, his eyes fever-bright and more awake than they’d been for hours. 

“She thinks every time you go ghost your immune system takes a hit,” she explained. “It left you vulnerable to some kind of bug in the hospital.” 

“‘Go ghost?’” he chuckled. “Is that what you’re calling it?” He gave a feeble cough, Rory rubbing the side of his face with a feather-light touch. 

“Better than ‘non-corporal’ or whatever Thorpe keeps calling it.”

“Non-corporeal,” he corrected, smiling softly and closing his eyes again. She thought he had fallen back asleep, but then they opened again. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh-oh,” she teased, earning a small laugh from him.

“About this Eubuleus stuff,” he began again. “If you’re the one who had to lead Sid and Sadie out of the Underworld, it means you probably are the only one that can put them back in it.” 

“I figured that much out on my own.”

“Yes, but…I’m guessing Sid and Sadie know that-that’s why they tried to get you on their side.”

“Because I’m not just an asset as a terminus, but I’m also a threat,” she finished for him, earning a tired nod from Stephen. 

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage,” he suggested. “As much as I hate to say it…you’re the best bait we could offer.”

Rory considered this, thinking about how Sid and Sadie would probably bend over backwards to kill her in an instant, without any regard for what the consequences could be to the rest of the world.

“Whatever we decide to do-it can wait until you’re better,” she told him, blotting his forehead again leaning down to place a kiss on his too-hot forehead. 

 

It took two days for Stephen to get to the point that he was strong enough to even get out of bed, but trying to keep him in it was becoming enough of a nuisance to Rory that she hated to admit she was glad he was under his own steam again. He was still a little pale when he called for a team meeting, everybody gathering in the living room of the flat to listen to whatever he had to say. 

“Constable Dene-you’re looking much better,” Thorpe told him, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I had a good doctor,” he teased, giving Rory a tired wink.

“Okay, let’s do a run down of everything we know,” Thorpe said, turning everything over to Stephen, who was standing at the edge of the sofa, keeping a hand on it to steady his still-tired form.

“We know that Sid and Sadie Smithfield-Wyatt seek immortality through the ancient ceremony the Rites of Demeter,” he began, looking slightly embarrassed to be in front of the group before he was one hundred percent. “They’ve succeeded in reanimating themselves after death with the help of Jane Quaint, now deceased, and they might seek more followers to do the process again. In order to become reanimated, they needed someone to act as Eubuleus, the mythological man who led Persephone from the Underworld. That was Rory. Because of that, we assume that they see her as either an asset or a threat-either way, they’re going to want to get their hands on her.”

“Do we have any idea where they might be?” Callum asked, looking forlorn at the sheer amount of information they had.

“No, but if they follow the same MO they had in 1973, they shouldn’t be hard to find,” Thorpe added, getting confusion from everyone except Stephen.

“Their followers,” Stephen explained for the benefit of the rest of the group. “It wouldn’t be hard to spot a pair of anachronistically dressed blond twins wandering around London. There’s bound to be reports. Eventually, they’re going to start picking up followers again, and when they do, people will start to disappear.”

“What about Charlotte?” Freddie spoke up. “She was a follower before, and she was totally brainwashed by Jane. Wouldn’t they try to find her?”

“True, which is why we’ve instituted some spies at Wexford,” Thorpe added, looking meaningfully at Boo and Rory.

“Jazza and Jerome,” Boo finished with a grin. “Oh, I bet Jerome is eating this up.” 

“They’ve been instructed to keep an eye on her at all times,” Thorpe explained. “If she goes to the toilet we’ll know. Until then, the rest of you will return to normal duty. Ask the ghosts you encounter if they’ve seen anything. They’re our best bet at having eyes all over the city.”

“When we get a hit on a possible location, we’ll establish a plan then,” Stephen concluded. “Unfortunately, we’re at an impasse.”

“This is all assuming that they don’t ride off into the sunset together and we never hear from them again,” Rory interrupted, holding her hands out. 

“If that’s the case, we’ll still be back to regular work. But I have a feeling it’s not going to be that easy.”

“It never is,” Callum finished, the entire group letting out a collective sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

“Freddie, keep up!” Callum shouted behind him as the rest of the group sprinted down the underground tunnel, the angry ghost they were all chasing quickly gaining distance between them. 

“Coming!” Freddie shouted ahead, trying to keep the bag she was carrying around her shoulders and not fall over, the rails dangerously electrified beneath her. It had been two weeks since they had resumed active duty, and cases usually involved everybody now that Rory was the only terminus available. Nobody wanted to the one left at home, so everybody went. However, it was proving difficult given the fact that Rory could only terminate about one ghost per day without suffering the same results as Stephen when he became a ghost too much.

This particular ghost was proving to be a difficult one, as she was stopping the electrical equipment tied to the tracks about once every hour, but also didn’t seem interested in having a discussion with the Shades. Stephen and Callum were far ahead of the girls, keeping a short distance between them and the unfriendly ghost, Rory and Boo right behind them. When they turned down a maintenance tunnel, it seemed like she was going to get away down a spiral staircase until suddenly, Stephen disappeared. Rory realized what he had done, and reached out to stop Boo and Callum. 

“He went through, wait at the top!” She shouted, and sure enough, a moment later the ghost reappeared at the top of the staircase, scared back the right direction by Stephen materializing in front of her. Rory was waiting in just the right position, holding her arms out and feeling the usual zap of energy through herself before the smell of flowers filled the tunnel. 

It all happened so quickly that Freddie only just appeared around the corner, Boo and Callum bending over to catch their breath. 

“What the hell just happened?” Freddie asked, Rory recovering as well from the run. 

“Stephen went through the floor to head her off. She must have doubled back right into us,” Rory explained, heading to the top of the spiral staircase. “Stephen? Are you okay?” She shouted down the stairs, getting a faint cry from what sounded like several floors below. 

“Yeah! It’s just really dark down here, and Freddie has my torch,” he called, Rory starting down the stairs with the flashlight she pulled from Freddie’s bag. She also grabbed a granola bar they carried for this purpose exactly. She found him sitting on the bottom stair, still catching his breath from his change. 

“Okay?” She asked, handing him the snack. During their weeks of training since Stephen’s illness, they discovered that the aftereffects tended to last a smaller amount of time if he kept his blood sugar up, his body having to struggle less to regulate the problems it experienced in the aftermath. 

“Yeah,” he answered again, unwrapping the bar and eating half of it in one bite. “I need to start my morning runs again-she shouldn’t have gotten that far ahead of us.”

“You run in the mornings? By choice?” Rory asked skeptically, cringing at the thought of exercising on purpose. 

“I used to, before I had a good reason to stay in bed in the mornings,” he told her, giving her a meaningful raise of his eyebrow. 

“We’ll just have to figure out another way for you to get your cardio in,” she teased, leaning down to give him a solid kiss on the mouth.

“Oi! You two! Snogging later, let’s go!” They heard Callum’s voice echo down the stairwell, making both of them sigh and laugh as they started up the stairwell. 

“Do you think you could project your ability?” Stephen asked as they walked, Rory following him just in case he had a dizzy spell during the climb. “You know, like terminate ghosts from a far?”

“I don’t know, I’ve obviously never tried it,” she mused, shrugging even though he couldn’t see her in the dark. “I imagine it would be difficult to test the theory. Not a lot of willing ghosts hanging around.” 

“No, but we could find some unwilling ones and ambush them,” he suggested, trudging up the spiral stairs as much as the narrow passage would allow. “If I can become non-corporeal with concentration, maybe you can do it too.” 

“We can’t all be perfect,” Rory teased, pinching Stephen’s rear just as they made it to the top and laughing at the high-pitched yelp he made in front of the others. 

 

“Morning, everyone, so I’ve-“

“Been thinking,” everybody at the table finished for Stephen, no one looking up from their respective breakfasts. 

“Christ, am I that predictable?” he asked, face falling slightly.

“More that you’re just always thinking,” Rory supplied with a warm smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Go ahead. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you and Freddie could use some practice,” he said simply, the others raising their heads to listen. 

“Rory, sure, but what am I going to do without a terminus?” Freddie asked, just as Stephen produced and old cell phone from his pocket.

“You didn’t!” Boo shouted excitedly, taking the device from him.

“I did,” he answered, smiling proudly. “I took the stones from the locket Rory took and rewired them for a new device. It might not be as strong as the others, but it should get the job done,” he explained. “I want Rory to try projecting her ability, but in a pinch this one should do nicely.”

“Where were you expecting us to test this?” Boo asked. “Are we just going to wander London with a ‘Ghosts Wanted’ sign around our necks?”

“Rory had a nasty run-in with someone at the Highgate cemetery,” Stephen explained, a hint of anger in his eyes. “I would very much like to pay him a visit.”


	11. Chapter 11

Highgate cemetery was unlike anything Rory ever experienced in the United States. Rather than sprawling fields filled with headstones at equal intervals, there were many secluded pathways covered in by trees, the monuments to the dead sometimes huge and more spectacle than anything. The east side of the cemetery was often covered in tourists due to the grave of Karl Marx, but the west side, where Rory had encountered the Resurrection Man, was nearly empty. The group had decided to stay together, at least at the beginning, so Freddie and Rory would have the benefit of backup in the event something went sour. 

It didn’t take long to find the man, as he was close to the same spot where Rory had found him the first time, wandering idly among the many tombstones and monuments. 

“There he is,” she whispered to Stephen, pointing ahead to where the man stood beneath the ancient looking tree. 

“Okay,” he whispered back, signaling to the others to keep their distance for the time being while he circled behind Rory and leaned against her in order to whisper in her ear. 

“I want you to close your eyes-don’t worry, I’ll keep watch for you-I just want you to concentrate.” He was standing right behind her, not touching her aside from his hot breath where it tickled the inside of her ear. “Think about the way you feel when the terminus is activated,” he whispered. “Think about the way your body feels…the way your mind feels…”

Rory concentrated, trying to remember the smoky-floral scent that would fill her nose, the tingle that ran through her fingertips whenever a ghost ended its time on earth on her watch. 

“Now try to think about a strong memory,” he instructed. “Mine only works when I think about something that invoked a strong emotional response-intense happiness, rage, or…desire.” 

Rory held back a smirk at the thought of Stephen thinking about any of their times together as his “happy thought” to become a ghost, but brought it back under control when Stephen scolded in her ear. 

“You’re not concentrating.” 

“Yes, I am, I promise,” she told him, keeping her eyes closed, although she felt his scarf come up to cover her eyes on the second time she peeked. 

“Stop looking and think,” he told her, tying a tight knot around her head and resuming his place behind her. “Think about what the moments leading up to a termination feel like, and…oh my god…” He stopped, Rory turning her head to try to hear what made him do so. 

“What is it? Stephen?”

“Rory, don’t move,” he whispered, Rory’s hair standing up on end as she felt his hands wrap around her arms, keeping them pinned to her sides. “The ghost is looking this way. I think he’s going to…NO! NO, GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Rory ripped her arms out of Stephen’s grasp and thrust them out in front of her, the last direction she knew the ghost to have been. In an instant, there was a loud bang, and she felt the ground around her rock with a tremor powerful enough to knock down small tombstones around them. She was fairly certain there was a flash of light, although she couldn’t see from behind the scarf, and then the distinct smell of terminated ghost filled her nostrils. She ripped the scarf off her face, finding Stephen, Boo, Callum, and Freddie all on the ground, looking like they’d all just been tackled.

“Well…that worked better than I’d hoped,” Stephen coughed, looking like he had taken the brunt of the hit having been so close to her. 

“What?! What happened? What was he doing?” Rory asked, still standing amidst the wreckage that she seemed to have caused. 

“Nothing-he never even moved,” Callum explained, standing and dusting himself off. 

“I thought maybe that would get a quicker emotional response from you,” Stephen groaned, accepting Callum’s offer of help up and brushing himself off as well. 

“You were faking? You ass!” Rory hit him solidly on the arm, Stephen’s face flushing pink.

“I’m sorry-but it worked,” he told her, pointing up to the tree where the man no longer stood. “As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were no ghosts left within a twenty mile radius. That blast was…intense.” 

Rory blushed again, watching all her friends eye her with slight unease, with the exception of Stephen, who she thought just looked…proud. 

“More importantly, how do you feel?” Boo asked her, stepping forward and holding Rory’s arms. “Did it hurt?”

“No,” she admitted, thinking back to the other times it had completely and totally drained her-the way Stephen’s ability tended to do with him. “I think…I think because I did it on purpose it wasn’t as bad. I wanted it to happen…I needed to help him, so I just…did.” 

“It was brilliant, whatever it was,” Freddie piped up, the only one of the group with a broad grin. “Like an explosion!”

“Well, I guess we can keep walking around,” Callum suggested. “Although I have a feeling there’s nothing left here. Ror just dusted everything around.” 

“Yeah, can we go to the tunnels? Maybe find one that I can try with?” Freddie asked, Boo and Callum starting to follow her. 

“Callum, Boo, why don’t you take Freddie and see what you can find? We’re…we’re just going to take a minute.” Callum and Boo both looked at Stephen as though they knew something that Rory and Freddie didn’t before nodding to him, the other three taking off in the other direction and leaving Rory alone with Stephen. 

“What’s up? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Rory asked him, instinctively checking him for bruises or injuries. 

“No, you were brilliant, honestly,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her toward him in an embrace. “Just…walk with me? I wanted to show you something.”

They walked toward the more modern areas of the cemetery, huge gothic monuments giving way to more reasonable, simple tombstones. They walked hand in hand, Stephen pointing out some of the more impressive structures until they simply stopped. Rory had no idea why until she realized they were standing directly in front of a small, modest tombstone with a single name and date. 

REGINA DENE   
1993-2009

“Gina, this is Rory. Rory…Gina,” he said quietly by means of introduction, his eyes dark and sad as he stared at the headstone. Rory’s heart broke at the way he stared at it, like he would give up his life and soul for it to turn back into his sister for just a moment. 

“Stephen, it’s really beautiful here,” she answered, feeling foolish that it was the best thing she could think to say. 

“I thought so too,” he answered. “It’s one of the only decisions that my parents ever made that I was actually okay with. She would have liked it here. She had a thing for weird cemeteries.”

“I didn’t know her, but I know that if she were here, she’d be so proud of everything you’ve done,” Rory told him, holding on to his arm with both hands. “You’re amazing at what you do, Stephen.” 

“Thanks,” he told her. “She would have liked you too. I wish you could have met her.”

“I wish I could have too.”

They stayed for a few more minutes, Stephen staring thoughtfully at the headstone while Rory rested her head on his shoulder. Before they left, Stephen walked up to the grave and kissed his fingertips before touching the top of the stone, Rory having the feeling this was something he had done thousands of times before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pics from Highgate Cemetery:  
> https://highgatecemetery.org/


	12. Chapter 12

“We have a hit,” Thorpe began to speak before the door was even fully closed to the flat, the Shades all looking up from where they sat in the living room, looking at Stephen’s carefully drawn-out maps of London. “Our friend Charlotte is on the move.”

“Charlotte?” Rory asked, perking up and looking concerned. She and Charlotte had never been friends, but she still didn’t consider it fair to blame her when she had been brainwashed into doing everything she’d done up to this point. 

“Ms. Benton called this morning to inform me that Charlotte has checked out of Wexford for an unplanned visit to Central London.” 

“Why is that weird? Couldn’t she be going home for the weekend?” Boo asked, looking relatively unconcerned. 

“Because Charlotte’s family lives in Dorset,” Thorpe answered, tossing some files on the sofa between Stephen and Rory. “Agent Dene…she’s gone Raven.” 

Stephen, Callum, and Boo all sighed collectively, groaning at the news that both Freddie and Rory didn’t understand in the slightest. 

“Gone Raven?” Freddie asked, raising an eyebrow and chuckling. “Is that some sort of secret code or something?”

“Of a sort,” Callum answered, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here at the moment.

“For the most part, we have complete jurisdiction over the entire United Kingdom,” Stephen began explaining. 

“And some parts of Brazil…although I still don’t understand that part,” Boo interrupted. 

“Anyway…there is one place in the entire country we don’t go. One place we don’t touch.”

Rory and Freddie looked at them expectantly, Stephen sighing once more. 

“The Tower of London.”

“The Crown Jewels place?” Rory asked in confusion, smiling at the seriousness in the room. “Why can’t we go there? Isn’t it just a tourist trap now?”

The four veterans shared a look, Stephen shaking his head. 

“Rory, The Tower of London has been around for almost a thousand years. It was originally a Royal palace and fortress, but one of its more famous uses was as a prison.”

“Thousands of people were slaughtered there,” Callum interrupted, looking concerned. 

“Only 400 confirmed executions, but thousands more that were undocumented,” Thorpe added. “The point is, there are thousands of people that were ripped from their lives over almost a thousand year history.” 

“We don’t go there because there are more ghosts than we can handle,” Boo explained, looking at Rory with an obvious look of concern. 

“Even with the termini, going in there would be suicide,” Stephen sighed, shaking his head. 

“One of our eyes in the skies picked Charlotte up entering the facility at approximately 8:32 this morning,” Thorpe stated, pointing to what looked like satellite images in the folder Stephen was holding. “No one else has come or went since then, but we suspect that Sid and Sadie could be inside.”

“How did they get into one of the most guarded buildings on the planet?” Freddie asked.

“They had help,” Stephen supplied, shaking his head and looking concerned. 

“The ghosts,” Rory had put it together, starting to realize just how serious the situation was. “They probably told them they could bring them back.” 

“And thousands of undead prisoners from a thousand years ago doesn’t exactly sound like a welcoming committee,” Callum groaned, rubbing his hands over his head in frustration. 

“So we have to go in,” Rory said, standing up. “Send me in, the ghosts can’t touch me.”

“And what are you going to do when you terminate too many and collapse?” Stephen asked her, standing up as well. “We don’t know what happens if you do too many at a time, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take.” 

“That’s not your decision to make,” Rory argued, shaking her head. “Stephen, hundreds of people could die. Maybe thousands if those people are brought back.” 

“We have to come up with a plan,” Boo intervened, stepping between the two of them. “We can’t go blowing in with no plan, and we’re a team.” 

“She’s right,” Callum agreed, also standing. “We’ll think of something. We always do.” 

“I’d like to be optimistic too, but really I’m just terrified,” Freddie added, being the last one to stand and join the group. “All for one and all that.” 

 

 

“Okay…is everybody ready?” Stephen asked, the group crowded around him on the outskirts of the Tower of London. “Remember, it’s probably going to be overwhelming. You have to pretend that you can’t see them. Close your eyes if you have to, but we have to keep going.”

“How are we going to get there if we all close our eyes, Mr. Fearless Leader?” Callum asked sarcastically, tightening his jacket around him and letting out a deep breath. 

“I’m not closing my eyes-just hold on to me,” he said, letting out a deep breath of his own. “And Rory, you stay in the center of the group at all times. We don’t want any of them getting terminated because they accidentally touched you. We need you at full power.” 

She nodded her head gravely, terrified out of her mind at the prospect of walking into a building that had potentially thousands of ghosts milling about inside. To her surprise, it wasn’t a building at all, but rather like a small neighborhood, set up within the outer walls of the old fortress. There were several buildings, all made of old stone and mortar, the doors made of black steel and wood. 

“So where are we actually going?” Boo asked, looking around at the suspiciously empty area. 

“The White Tower,” he answered, gesturing to the largest stone structure directly in the center of the area where they were standing. “We don’t know where once we’re inside, but I have a guess.” 

“Care to fill us in?” Callum asked, bringing up the rear and looking around in concern. 

“St. John’s,” Stephen answered, his eyes wide as he took in everything. “The chapel.” 

“Why there?” Rory asked, eyes trying to look everywhere at once. She was confused-there should be hundreds if not thousands of ghosts around, so why was it so quiet?

“Because if I was going to conduct a ceremony to bring thousands of ghosts back to life, I’d gather them in one of the oldest religious institutions in the world.” 

“No accounting for taste,” Callum whispered, the five of them moving as a unit to the entrance of the building, Stephen reaching forward and unlocking the outside with a set of keys Thorpe had given him earlier. 

The moment they stepped inside, Rory was taken over by a strange feeling. The air seemed to be thicker-colder somehow, even though the outside air was bitter. The air seemed to be electric, the hair on her arms sticking straight up and a constant tingle seemed to be just at the back of her neck. 

“Something…something’s not right,” she whispered, Stephen just barely starting to turn around before something heavy came down directly on his head. 

Freddie and Boo screamed, Stephen hitting the floor in a daze and holding his head. Rory began to rush to his side before the room was suddenly illuminated by the faintly glowing bodies of hundreds of ghosts-all appearing out of no where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.hrp.org.uk/tower-of-london/#gs.c600f1


	13. Chapter 13

“Don’t move, little dove, or I’ll take his head clean off next time.” Rory recognized Sadie’s voice, although she didn’t see her yet. “And if you so much as try to get rid of one of our dear friends, I’ll tear the arms off of each of your friends, one by one.” 

She stepped around the corner, the group tensing for a fight Rory had no idea how they would win. 

“Now, now, dear sister-is that any way to treat our guests?” Sid was right behind her, his white suit almost glowing in the darkness of the hall. “Lock those three in one of the cells,” he instructed one of the random ghosts, stepping forward and taking the terminus out of Callum’s hand. “Keep eyes on them at all times. We’ll take these two.” 

“We only need the boy, brother-dear,” Sadie mentioned, Rory’s head whipping around as she looked to Stephen on the ground, a small line of blood dribbling from beneath his hair. 

“Yes, but I have a feeling he’ll be much more cooperative if we have this lovely lady,” Sid said, his white teeth gleaming unnaturally. 

“Just take me,” Rory interrupted, stepping toward the twins. “It’s me you want. You don’t have to take Stephen. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Oh, blessed girl. You are of no use to us,” Sadie chirped, watching with gleaming eyes as Sid helped Stephen to his feet, Stephen wrestling his arm out of the man’s grasp. 

“Oh, Sadie…I think she thought she was important,” Sid laughed, shaking his head at Rory like she was an insolent toddler. 

“Dear, why would we need you?”

“Because I led you out of the Underworld. You need me to go back and bring everyone else,” she said in explanation, not even sure if she should be divulging this information. 

“But you didn’t, little dove,” Sadie laughed, her sound almost musical. “One can only be led from the world of the dead by one who has been there himself.” 

“Stephen,” she mouthed silently, watching him be held back by Sid, who appeared to be stronger than he led on. 

“She’s a quick one, Sadie,” Sid groaned. “Can’t we keep her?”

“Don’t go with them, Rory,” she heard Callum shout from behind them, much further down the hall. She hadn’t noticed the ghosts corralling them away, but she knew that within moments she and Stephen were going to be alone with the twins and hundreds of ghosts. She could defend herself against the dead, but Stephen could not. 

“Just…don’t hurt him…please,” she muttered, angry tears in the corners of her eyes. 

“As long as he listens, he should be just fine,” Sid assured her, reaching out and squeezing Rory’s shoulder, making her feel dirty from the touch alone. “Except for that quick little jaunt we’re gonna have him make back to the land of the dead, of course.”

“I won’t do it,” Stephen growled from next to Sadie, Rory suddenly hearing a click and something cold and metal pressed to the side of her head. 

“You will, you beautiful boy, or I’ll paint the walls with the inside of your little girlfriend’s head,” Sid replied, sounding like he was discussing the weather rather than holding a gun to Rory’s head. She hadn’t even noticed him draw it-she had been so concerned about the apparent head wound Stephen had suffered. 

“I told you he would do anything if we had her, darling sister,” Sid laughed, pointing ahead with his free hand while keeping the gun trained on Rory. “Come on now, we have the chapel all set up.”

 

St. John’s chapel looked like something out of a movie, all white stone and gothic architecture around a central altar, every inch surrounded by lit candles flickering in the darkness from the stained glass. Rory was more concerned however, with the hundreds of ghosts filling every pew, each head turning to look at them the moment they entered. 

“Friends!” Sid called, the ghosts cheering in response. “The hour is almost upon us for you all to join Sadie and I in the land of the living. We’ve been waiting for over forty years, and we know most of you have waited much longer. Soon, we’ll all be together in our immortality.” 

The ghosts cheered once more, Stephen looking at Rory in concern-both of them knew this was far too much for them to take on alone, and the moment Stephen would use his power it was obvious that Sid would put a bullet in Rory’s head. Sid led Rory to the pew closest to the altar, the only one devoid of ghosts, while Sadie sat Stephen in a plain wooden chair facing the rest of the “congregation.” 

“Our counsel has arrived, our friends,” Sid explained, picking up some sort of bejeweled vessel and holding it above his head. “He shall be the one to open the door, and you will all come to us. Drink,” she held the vessel out to Stephen, who looked at her in such a way that if he had the ability to destroy someone with his eyes, he would. 

“Drink it, or she dies,” Sadie whispered, only loud enough for those in front to hear. Stephen looked at Rory, looking like he was lost for what to do. 

“Don’t do it, Stephen,” Rory whispered, praying inside her head that something would happen. Anything to stop what she thought was coming. 

“I’m sorry,” she heard him whisper, just as he allowed Sadie to lift the cup to his lips, taking several deep swallows. 

It took only a moment before he collapsed, holding his stomach in obvious pain. 

“Stephen!” Rory called, jumping up out of the pew only to be forced back down by Sid. 

“It’ll all be over in a moment, little dove,” he growled, watching Stephen writhe on the floor with a kind of hunger, his mouth twisting in a maniacal grin. 

Stephen stopped moving. Rory sobbed aloud, certain that she had lost him again, before suddenly, he stood up. However, he wasn’t standing, he was…floating. His body floated to a standing position, hovering several inches off the stone floor. She would have been focused on the fact that he was levitating if it weren’t for the more dominating feature of the moment-his eyes. They were glowing.

Stephen’s eyes were now a bright, penetrating blue-a far step from his usual kind, dark ones. But they weren’t just a different color, they were literally glowing-a pale, radiating light pulsing from somewhere far from this world. 

“Who seeks the kingdom of the damned?” The voice that came from Stephen’s mouth was definitely not his own, but his voice could be heard beneath it, almost like he was speaking over a track of another, deeper, other-worldly voice. 

“It is us, benevolent lord,” Sadie cooed, kneeling on the floor before whatever Stephen had been turned into, smiling wildly up at the being. “Sid and Sadie Smithfield-Wyatt, your humble servants here to bring your power to the land of the living.” 

“What makes you believe you are worthy?” The being asked, appearing to look down at where Sadie knelt below him. It was more than unnerving seeing Stephen’s body make these movements, as though he had fled his form and something much…bigger…than him had taken over. 

“We have served your name within the underworld for forty years, your grace,” Sid piped up, stepping forward to join his sister. “Now we humbly ask for what has been promised, our lives unending upon this world.” 

The being looked down at the twins, seeming amused at them kneeling before him, before looking up to view the rest of the room, his head tilted in thought. 

“This host, you have underestimated him,” the echoing voice rang out, still looking bemused at the events he was witnessing. “He tells me you seek these powers for ill repute.” 

Sid and Sadie looked up in confusion, the ghosts murmuring in dissent around them, but Rory realized what this meant-Stephen was still in there, and he was fighting back. 

“Such a noble child of the light-I see nothing but purity from within his soul,” the being sighed, almost sounding bored. “He loves this one you have brought to bear witness.” The arm of the floating Stephen raised to indicate Rory, the head held slightly to the side in amusement. “Tell me, children of the Blessed Mother, why should I eliminate this child?”

“They are but unfortunate pawns in an overlong game, your grace,” Sadie explained, her hands out in front of her placatingly. “We wish to bring them to your ways, but alas, they have not seen your light.” 

“Aurora Deveaux,” the being spoke, Rory almost screaming at the sound of her name coming out of not-Stephen’s mouth. “Controller of the light and dark, approach me, child.” 

Sid stood up and went to Rory, practically dragging her to the being and forcing her to her knees. “Please…please don’t hurt Stephen,” she sobbed, not even sure if Stephen was still alive beneath whatever creature had controlled his body. 

“Approach me, my child,” the voice rang, holding a hand out to Rory and beckoning her forward. “Do not be afraid.” 

Rory stepped forward, her breath hitching in fear as the being floated above the ground. He touched down gently, the body still Stephen’s but the presence anything but. “My child, you wish to stop these followers from seeking the full power of the light of the Underworld?”

“They want to be immortal…they killed people,” she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. “They tried to kill my best friends.” 

“This host…he thinks highly of you,” the being said, tilting his head once more as if he were listening to Stephen from within. “He would allow me to remain within this form forever if it meant you could remain in the world of the living.”

“Please…” Rory whimpered, reaching out without thinking and taking the hand that still looked like Stephen’s. “Please…don’t take him from me.” 

To her surprise, his hand was warm. She looked up at the being, and for a moment-just a single, infinitesimal moment, she saw a flash of the brown of Stephen’s actual eyes. For that instant it was him again, and something about that look stopped her heart. She looked down at their joined hands, and nearly screamed-she was completely see-through, Stephen’s powers transferred to her. 

Another look up at the being before her confirmed it. She was no longer looking at an ancient being, but rather the soft brown eyes of the man she had fallen in love with. 

“Now, Rory.” It still wasn’t his voice, but she knew where it came from, and she didn’t waste another moment. Channeling all the energy she could imagine, she imagined Stephen’s face. His laugh. The way he grinned when she kissed his neck. The feel of his hands on her body. The way her heart was full knowing that they shared a life now, and that no number of ghosts would ever change that. 

The explosion was massive. The flash of white light nearly blinded Rory, but her eyes stayed open to see the shocks of what looked like lightning racing from her fingertips and lighting the room like day. The ghosts disappeared at once, the floral scent of their departure nearly enough to make her gag. But what she noticed most was the lack of pain-terminating this many beings should have killed her, but instead she stood strong-her hands held out in front of her as the air crackled and fizzed around them. Shots rang out, bullets going straight through her body thanks to the power transferred to her. Sid and Sadie were screaming, their faces changing before their eyes. Their young, softened faces seemed to age in seconds, the forty years they spent in the Underworld being added in moments before they both fell to the ground, unmoving for the final time. 

The light was still around them when Rory looked to where Stephen was still beside her, the being’s glowing eyes back inside Stephen’s. 

“You have done well, child of light,” the being said. “But this host is not strong enough to maintain me.” 

“Please…please give him back.” 

“It is not his time to come to me.”

In an instant, the being disappeared, Stephen’s body falling to the floor and the light flicking out like someone flipping a switch. Rory was alone in the chapel, Sid and Sadie’s dead bodies laying inches away from where Stephen had landed. 

She fell to her knees beside him, reaching her fingers to his neck and finding no pulse beating there. She rolled him over to his back and tried to remember: everybody in Benouéville had a pool. It was so hot there, and because everybody had one, all kids took swimming lessons the moment they were old enough. As a teenager, one extra element was added to those lessons, and it was with all her might that she tried to remember all the steps-the summers she spent poolside, practicing on the plastic dummies. 

She put her hands together and started compressing his chest, sobbing quietly to herself as she counted. After ten compressions she put her lips to his, pinching his nose and blowing a breath into his mouth, causing his chest to rise and fall. 

“Come on Stephen,” she sobbed, her compressions as hard as she could make them. “I can’t lose you again, come on.” She heard footsteps behind her, but she couldn’t be bothered to turn around. She knew who it was when she heard the steps run up and fall beside her, Callum’s form holding Stephen’s head. 

“Come on, mate,” he whispered, giving Stephen breaths while Rory did compressions. 

It could have been minutes or it could have been days, but at some point he coughed, his eyes snapping open as the life came back to his body. Rory helped him to his side, shoving her fingers down his throat until he vomited all over the stone floor of the chapel. Whatever Sadie had made him drink now covered the chapel floor. 

She had no way of knowing if the poison was out of his system, but he was breathing-for the moment, Stephen was alive. He coughed and sputtered, eyes red and bloodshot as he held on to Rory’s arm for dear life. 

“What happened?” Rory heard Boo ask, although she couldn’t be bothered to take her eyes off of Stephen for a moment. 

“Rory…” Stephen sputtered, looking up and somehow managing a small smile. “Rory…did it.” 

“Did what?” Callum asked.  
“She destroyed them. All of them.” He smiled at her, leaning until Rory caught him in a fierce hug, vowing to herself that she would absolutely never, ever let him go. 

“You did it,” he mumbled, his head pressed against her shoulder. “I knew you could do it.”

“How did you all get out?” Rory asked Callum, Freddie stepping forward and helping them get Stephen to a reclining position, his head in Rory’s lap. 

“The ghosts guarding us just…disappeared. It was like they were all terminated, but we weren’t anywhere near you.” 

“Yeah, I think…I think that was me,” she admitted, cradling Stephen’s head in her lap. “Call Thorpe-we need to get him to the hospital.” 

Freddie nodded and ran off, taking her phone out of her bag and presumably running to somewhere that had better reception. 

“What was that thing?” Rory asked, looking at Stephen’s eyes upside-down and thanking with everything she had they were still his. “That thing…inside you?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, suddenly looking very, very tired. “It was something older than…than time itself, I think. It…it didn’t hurt. He let me reach out to you. Or she. I don’t really know.” 

“What did you see?” she asked. 

“Light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end! A few more chapters, and some tying up of loose ends.


	14. Chapter 14

Stephen was checked, checked again, and thanks to Rory, checked a third time for any sort of lasting damage caused by the blow to his head that he had sustained at the Tower of London. While his head seemed to still be intact, thanks to the number of other bumps and bruises he sustained in his possession by whatever being had inhabited his body, Thorpe insisted that he spend the night in the hospital. However, due to the fact that Rory threatened bodily harm to anyone who insisted that she leave his side, an extra bed had been brought into his room for her to sleep in that night. Of course, that was completely useless, as the moment the nurses left them alone, she was in the bed with him, the two of them wrapped around each other in a tight embrace with no intention of ever letting go.

“Sid and Sadie Smithfield-Wyatt are in the morgue, and I’m confident saying that they are actually deceased.” Thorpe was standing over the hospital bed, keeping his eyes somewhat averted from Rory and Stephen wrapped around each other.

“What about Charlotte?” Rory asked, concerned for the Wexford prefect after everything she’d been though.

“Still missing, unfortunately,” Thorpe added, shaking his head. “We think she got spooked at the explosion and made a run for it, but our imaging malfunctioned-I suspect that was you-and we couldn't keep a trace on her.”

Rory nodded, although she wasn’t at peace with the idea of Charlotte still at large, possibly still brainwashed into doing Sid and Sadie’s bidding. 

“We can finish briefing tomorrow,” Thorpe said finally, noticing Stephen’s eyes growing heavy from the sedation he’d been given. “You two get some rest. I’ll be here for your discharge in the morning, Dene.” Stephen gave a tired nod, resting his head against the hospital pillow.

“Still there?” Rory whispered for about the millionth time that night, her head resting on Stephen’s collarbone. 

“Still here,” he answered, his right hand tracing idle patterns against the small of her back. 

“You should probably get some sleep,” she suggested, knowing it was going to be hard for either of them to close their eyes that night. 

“I probably should…” he mumbled, the two of them settling into silence once more. 

“I saw her, Rory,” he whispered after several minutes, Rory lifting her head to look at his face, which seemed thousands of miles away. 

“Saw who?” she asked, although she already had an idea considering the pain she saw in his eyes. 

“Gina…she was there,” he said softly. “Wherever…wherever ‘there’ was…she was there. She talked to me.”

“What did she say?” Rory asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be. 

“She told me-“ He choked on his words, clearly trying to keep his emotions under control. “She told me to be strong. That it would all be over soon. I thought…I thought I was going to die. I thought she meant I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t,” Rory reminded him, lifting her hands to cup either side of his face. “You’re still here with me.” 

“She said…she told me to stop looking for her,” he explained, looking ashamed. “I said I wasn’t, but…but I never stopped looking for her. I thought…I thought if I just kept looking, I would find her.”

“She’s not a ghost, Stephen,” Rory told him softly. “Ghosts…I think they’re left behind when they’re confused. I don’t think Regina was confused. She knew how much you meant to her. She just…lost her way.”

“I don’t know if it was really her or just…something in my head,” he admitted. 

“Either way, I’m sure she’s proud of what you did.” 

“I could have stayed,” he told her, his voice barely audible now. “I could have stayed there. He said I could. He said I could stay.”

Rory’s eyes finally let go, tears leaving wet lines down her face. 

“I couldn’t. I told him I couldn’t be anywhere you weren’t.”

She laughed, a sharp, sob of a laugh, before pulling his face to hers and kissing his lips, resting their foreheads together. 

“We’re taking a vacation after all of this,” she teased, still holding each side of his face. 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas,” he told her, a weak, tired smile on his face. 

“Fine, we’ll have dinner tomorrow, but then we’re going on vacation.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” he laughed, the two of them falling into silence for a few minutes. “I’m tired.” 

“Go to sleep…I’ll be right here.” 

 

 

Rory would have thought that Christmas with the Shades would be like pulling teeth, so when she and Stephen arrived home to a completely decorated flat, “surprised” wasn’t a strong enough word for how she felt. Callum had strung Christmas lights along the outside of the flat, and Boo had made a last-minute dash to a department store for a tree that certainly looked like it could use some love. Freddie had finished off the decorations by draping popcorn strings over the living room, the entire area looking just as festive as any of Rory’s memories from Christmas’ prior. 

The rest of the group cheered when they arrived, Callum and Boo running up to hug Stephen and Rory respectively. 

“So, what’s the damage this time?” Callum asked Stephen, giving him a gentle tap on his head. 

“Mild concussion,” he answered, pushing Callum away playfully.

“And he has the pleasure of me waking him up every hour for the next two days. Or three. Or ten,” Rory teased. 

“We have a surprise for you,” Boo told her, looking to the kitchen where Jazza and Jerome had just entered. 

“You guys!” Rory exclaimed happily, rushing forward to hug Jazza first, then Jerome slightly awkwardly. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

“Well, it sounds like you got on just fine without us,” Jazza laughed, shaking her head-still in complete disbelief of everything she knew. “I have so, so much to tell you.” 

“Thorpe is on his way, he called,” Freddie told them, looking curiously at Jazza, whom she had never had a chance to meet. 

When Thorpe finally arrived, everyone was confused to see another man with him. The man was shorter than Thorpe, with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes. “Everyone, this is my husband, Jared,” Thorpe told them all, looking slightly bashful as the Shades all greeted Jared happily. 

Stephen seemed to be the most bemused by the fact that Thorpe was married, almost as though he’d never really seen him as an actual person-akin to a student seeing a teacher at a grocery store. 

“It’s snowing again,” Freddie told the entire group from where she was stationed at the window, Rory immediately grabbing Stephen’s hand and pulling him outside, everyone else following them. 

“I haven’t had a chance to actually be in it when we weren’t worried for our lives,” she shouted back to the group, oblivious to the fact that they had all stopped dead in their tracks as soon as they got outside. “What? Why are you all-“

She stopped, turning to see what everybody was staring at. Charlotte was standing in front of their flat, a gun in her hand-currently pointing straight at Rory-and tears streaming down her face. 

“You took…everything…from me,” she sobbed, the gun shaking in her hand. 

“Charlotte, put down the weapon, let’s go inside and talk,” Thorpe suggested, stepping forward with his hands up in a defensive gesture. She whipped the gun around to him, everybody collectively taking a breath. 

“I followed you. You…I know you would see her soon. She took everything from me.”

“Charlotte, whatever Sid and Sadie did to you…” Rory started, Charlotte turning back to her in a rage and screaming.

“Don’t say their names! You don’t deserve to say their names. It was because of you that Jane died…”

“Sid killed Jane, Charlotte,” Stephen supplied, and Rory could already see him trying desperately to get between Rory and the gun. “Rory didn’t do anything.” 

“Exactly!” She screamed. “All she had to do was what they asked for, and we could have all been happy. But she…took them…”

“Charlotte, please…” 

Everything happened so quickly-Thorpe and Callum jumped toward Charlotte, aiming to take her down, but they didn’t make it before the shot rang out. 

Rory squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable pain that would end her life…but it never came. She opened her eyes slowly, looking down for the blood that was sure to be there, the hole that was sure to be in her body. She assumed she was in shock, because she didn’t feel anything. She gasped when she looked down at her body, as it was completely see-through. She looked up, everyone else seemingly just as surprised as she was-except Stephen. 

Stephen put down his hands and fell to his knees in exhaustion, and it was then that Rory realized what had happened. Like Rory, Stephen had learned under pressure how to project his ability, and from the lack of color in his face it appeared that he had used every last bit of his energy to make Rory a temporary ghost, the bullet apparently going right through her. 

Rory sincerely hoped that Callum and Thorpe had Charlotte under control, because she ran to Stephen as fast as she could, catching him just before he fell in the snow. 

“You idiot, you could have died!” she shouted, helping him down to a reclining position in the snow. 

“Thank you, Stephen, you saved my life-you’re my hero,” he replied sarcastically, wincing a bit as she touched his face. 

“Shut up,” she half laughed, half cried. “I can’t believe you did that. I can't deal with you being hurt again.” 

“Me either. Where’s Charlotte?”

“We’ve got her,” Callum said softly. He and Thorpe had managed to take the gun away from Charlotte, and the former prefect was sitting on the ground between them with her knees pulled up to her chest, sobbing quietly. 

“We’ll have her taken to a facility,” Thorpe answered, giving his husband a small nod-although Jared looked like this was hardly the weirdest thing that had interrupted one of their evenings. “She’ll be taken care of.” 

A dark car pulled up in moments, making Rory wonder if they had been lying in wait for something like this to happen. Charlotte was ushered inside, her face now an empty shell of emotion as she moved on auto-pilot. 

Thorpe and Callum moved to Stephen, each of them picking up one of his arms and hoisting him to his feet. 

“Wouldn’t be a holiday without you hurt somehow, mate,” Callum teased, Freddie running ahead of them to prepare a spot on the sofa for Stephen. 

“I’d like to point out that he didn’t jump in front of the bullet, which is a move up for him,” Boo teased, earning her a glare from Stephen as he settled. He looked exhausted, but otherwise all right. 

“Is that it? Is anyone else going to try to kill us?” Rory asked, only half-joking. 

“I don’t think so…but we better go eat just in case,” said Freddie.


	15. Chapter 15

“So is this just like…a regular day for you? Because I used to think Wexford exams were rough,” Jazza said quietly, sitting beside Rory on the couch of the Shades’ living room. The party had wound down significantly, with Thorpe and Jared having gone home, Boo and Freddie in bed, and Callum and Jerome on the floor of the front room playing FIFA ’18 on the television. Stephen was fast asleep on the couch, his head in Rory’s lap, snoring softly against her stomach-leaving Rory and Jazza free to talk quietly. 

“It’s…hard to explain,” she laughed, shaking her head and absently combing her fingers through Stephen’s hair. 

“Well, clearly the job has its perks…” Jazza smirked, gesturing toward the sleeping Stephen. 

“Yeah…that’s hard to explain too.” 

“Is it serious?” she asked, pulling her legs up under her, gearing up for a full-on gossip session. 

“Um…fairly serious, yeah,” Rory laughed, turning pink and giggling when Jazza playfully swatted her arm. 

“Oh my god, you totally did it,” Jazza laughed. 

“What, are we twelve, Jazz?” Rory laughed. “Yes, it’s…serious. I love him.”

“Wow,” Jazza sighed, looking troubled for a moment. “I’ve…I’ve actually been seeing someone too.” 

“Really? Who?” Rory asked, excited for her but also totally confused as to how Jazza had the time to date between exams and being an impromptu spy for the Shades. Jazza blushed a deep scarlet, her eyes drifting unmistakably to the front room, and Jerome. 

“No!” Rory cried, but with a grin. 

“You’re not angry?” Jazza asked, voice full of concern.

“Of course not, Jazz,” she answered, using the hand that wasn’t tangled in Stephen’s hair to place on Jazza’s arm. “I want both of you to be happy. If you’re happy together, that…just makes it easier to keep track of,” she teased. “Really…I’m happy for you.” 

“I’ve been so worried about how to tell you,” Jazza sighed, relief evident in her face. “But now that that’s done…I want details! Tell me everything about Stephen!”

“I don’t even think you know what you’re asking,” Rory laughed, shaking her head once more.

 

Hours later, Rory waved goodbye to Jazza and Jerome from the couch, Callum leaving to drive them both back to Wexford, where they’d arranged to return early. 

“Stephen…” Rory whispered, kissing his forehead and giving him a light shake. “Can you make it to bed, hun? Or do you want me to bring you a pillow and some blankets?”

“I can make it,” he mumbled, barely opening his eyes as she helped him sit up. “Did you call me ‘hun?’”

“Oh…yeah, I guess I did,” Rory replied in embarrassment, having not even noticed the endearment slip out. 

“No…I like it,” he mumbled again, clearly still half asleep as he wobbled to his feet and allowed her to lead him back to their bedroom. “Very…southern USA.”

“Well, that fits, yeah,” she teased, helping him get into his pajamas and into bed. “This is just like the first night we spent together, remember?”

“Except this time I ghosted myself into oblivion instead of drinking there,” he teased, sleepy eyes on Rory as she changed and got into bed beside him. 

“Definitely easier to get you dressed when you’re sober,” she teased. 

“I’d let you get me undressed if I wasn’t…” he paused to yawn. “…so tired.” 

“Yes, very sexy, hun,” she replied, trying out the name again. 

“I want to meet your parents,” he blurted, rolling over to face her. 

“Um…that was out of nowhere,” she laughed, looking at him with a completely surprised expression. “What brought that on?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I feel like I have to meet the people responsible for the woman I love.”

“So very chivalrous of you,” Rory giggled, nestling against him under the covers.

“I thought…I thought maybe we could go to Louisiana for a visit,” he suggested, causing Rory to look up at him in surprise once more. “I think Thorpe owes me a holiday after all this…we could visit your family. You could show me your house…for real this time.” 

Rory thought back to their dream-like visit to the Underworld, to her home in Louisiana that had tried to convince her to stay. It had felt so welcoming then, so comforting to her. 

“I could take you to New Orleans,” she suggested. “Mardi Gras starts in February. You’d die the first time a lady flashes you her boobs.” 

He giggled beside her. “Is that a thing?”

“Oh, my little Brit, you have so much to learn.” 

 

“Yes, Mom, I will. Yes. Yes, I’ll tell him. Love you too. Bye.” Rory hung up the phone after nearly an hour, Stephen having only just come back into the bedroom where he had left her some privacy to talk with her parents.

“Well, how did it go?” he asked, sitting on the bed and watching where she stood by the window. 

“I told them that I wasn’t going back to Wexford and that I had been taken into the London Police Academy,” she explained. 

“London doesn’t have a police academy,” he answered, looking at her in confusion. 

“And let’s hope my parents don’t think to look that up,” she sighed. “Anyway, aside from me having never mentioned any interest in law enforcement, they seemed…okay, I guess. They sounded much better once I asked to visit Bènouville.”

“At least they're not knocking down our door,” he sighed, shrugging. 

“They have another week off before they have to get back for the next semester,” she explained. “Do you think we can arrange a trip so soon?”

“I think I can pull some strings,” he agreed with a nod, looking at her expectantly.

“Are you sure you want me coming? I would understand if you want some time alone with your parents.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I want you to come,” she laughed, crossing over to him and pushing him down on the bed, playfully straddling him with a giggle. “And Mom’s excited to meet you.” 

“Exactly how much did you tell them about me?” he asked, looking half interested in Rory sitting on his lap and half concerned for what she had said. 

“I told her I met you at the academy, and that you were one of my supervisors,” she explained, Stephen’s eyebrows knitting together in concern. 

“That’s it?”

“I…told her that I was seeing someone, and then I think she put two and two together.”

“This is going to be awkward, isn’t it?”

“I left out the part where we live and sleep together,” she whispered, laying down so she could give him a quick kiss. 

“Good, because I’ve seen the movies, you know. Your father doesn’t own any firearms, does he?”

“Only a handgun he uses to scare away gators,” Rory answered nonchalantly, ignoring Stephen’s wide-eyed concern. “They’re going to love you. What are you worried about?”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest track record with parents,” he reminded her, happily accepting the kiss she gave him and allowing her closeness to calm him a bit. 

“They’ll love you,” she repeated, giving him another, deeper kiss this time. She could almost hear his mind shutting down switch by switch. “I promise.”

“What did you say you’d tell me?” he asked, eyes already turning dark.

“Oh, Mom seems to be very concerned that you bring enough sunscreen.” 

“Your father is going to murder me for de-flowering his only daughter and your mum is worried I’ll get sunburned?” he asked, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Rory giggled, pulling his hands away from his face and pinning them above his head on the bed. “You didn’t de-flower me-for god’s sake I’m a grown woman not some blushing sixteenth century damsel.”

“You really think they’ll like me?” he asked, Rory’s heart breaking at the sincerity of his worry. 

“They are going to love you. Because I love you. And they know I have great taste.”

“You eat Cheez Whiz out of the canister and fell in love with a man who can go see-through at will-you hardly have good taste,” he laughed sarcastically.

“What can I say? I know what I like,” she teased once more. She leaned down to kiss him again, only to have him interrupt once more.

“But what if-“

“Stephen, what do I have to do to make you stop thinking?” she asked, leaning down to kiss against his neck instead, going up until she reached his ear and licking the outer part until he shivered. 

“That’s…that’s working pretty well…” he mumbled, voice husky and ragged. 

 

 

Thorpe, as it turned out, was only too happy to organize a vacation for Rory and Stephen, as he explained to Rory that he’d been chiding Stephen to take one since his first year with the agency and it was like pulling teeth to get him even to take the weekends off. It turned out he was also very good at forgoing usual travel hiccups, and within two days Rory and Stephen were sitting at Heathrow preparing for a flight to New Orleans. 

“Stephen, you’ve checked your watch twenty-five times in the last twenty minutes,” Rory told him, bringing her eyes up from the magazine she leafed through as they sat at their gate and waited to board. “Do you have some hot date I’m not aware of?”

He wiped his hands on his jeans, letting out a deep breath through his mouth and looking at the thousands of people milling about one of the largest airports in the world. 

“Just…we’re supposed to take off at 7:35…and it’s…6:58…why aren’t we on board yet?” he asked, looking at his watch once again despite having looked at it less than ten seconds before. It was then that Rory finally put all the pieces together: Stephen had been up well-before she had been that morning, even though it was ungodly early and Thorpe wasn’t due to pick them up for hours. He had dropped nearly everything he’d been carrying, hadn’t eaten since the day before, and…

“Stephen, have you ever flown before?” she asked, putting the magazine down.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked, looking at her in abject terror. 

“Your family was rich, I just assumed you vacationed in Majorca or something,” she admitted. 

“They did,” he answered, looking at his watch once more. “My parents, anyway. I never went with them on their vacations.” 

“So you’ve never flown? And…you’re terrified?”

“About the whole of it, yeah,” he answered, his voice nearly an octave higher than usual. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were so excited about going home, and…and it didn’t occur to me until much later that it involved inter-continental travel and that it was hardly a train ride and-“

Rory reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“For once, I have more experience than you on something, and I promise you it’ll be fine,” she assured him. “They won’t start boarding for another ten minutes or so. I’m going to run to the shop over there, I’ll be right back.” 

She left and returned less than ten minutes later, handing Stephen a bottle of water and placing two white pills in his hands. “Take those.”

“What are they?” he asked, looking at her with enormous eyes.

“Cocaine-I just hit up the guy in the bathroom for some,” she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “It’s motion sickness medication, you dolt, just take them.” 

“But I don’t get motion sickness,” he mumbled, tossing the pills in his mouth and throwing back some water to wash them down. 

“No, but if it does the same thing to you as it does to me, you’re going to feel too drowsy to care about the flight,” she explained. “And trust me, it’s a very long, and very boring flight.”

Rory was grateful that Thorpe had managed to wrangle them first-class seats, as she wasn’t sure how well Stephen would have dealt with his nerves if he had to be shoulder-to-shoulder with a stranger for twelve hours. She gave him the window seat, assuring him that he would want to look once they were in the air, and sure enough, before the plane had even started to taxi to the runway his eyes were droopy and he seemed to be sitting a little less tense. 

“See? Told you it would knock you out, ya’ lightweight,” she teased, holding his hand and lacing their fingers together. 

He sighed, leaning his head over to rest on her shoulder. He panicked only once more, when the plane lurched during takeoff, Rory certain he was going to break her hand as they climbed into the sky, but luckily they evened out quickly, Stephen’s head eventually falling back to Rory’s shoulder where it remained for the majority of the flight. 

He didn’t wake up until the captain announced their descent into New Orleans, his eyes red and a huge line through his cheek from Rory’s sweatshirt. 

“Did he just say…are we there?” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and looking out the window. 

“Lightweight,” Rory teased once more, taking her headphones out of her ears and grinning at him. “See all those lights right there?” she asked, pointing from her side out the window. “That’s the French District. You should see it at night, it’s amazing. And if we had more time I’d take you to Cafe Du Monde for beignets.”

“How far is Bènouville?” he asked, looking a little worried again now that landing was imminent. 

“About an hour west of New Orleans,” she explained. “Thorpe gave me the information-there’s going to be a car waiting for us. We pick up the keys at the customs desk.” 

Rory was amazed with how quickly they made it through customs, remembering the long line when she had arrived in London less than six months before. She suspected Thorpe had something to do with the fact that they were waved ahead despite the line, and soon enough they were walking toward the rental lot, keys in hand. 

“Christ…you weren’t kidding about the heat,” Stephen swore, holding his hand up to shade his eyes from the sun. They had left London at seven in the morning local time, arriving in Louisiana at the height of the afternoon.

“Oh, this is a mild day,” she told him, clicking the keys and waiting to hear the tell-tale chirp of the car that was to be theirs for a week. “You should feel it in July.” 

They found a blacked out SUV parked near the corner of the lot, Rory rolling her eyes as they unlocked it and threw their bags in.

“Fits the secret agent theme,” Rory laughed, watching Stephen start to get in on the left side of the car. “You driving?”

“What? Oh, right, wrong side.”

“It’s the right side for me. Well…left. Correct side. Whatever.” He grinned as they switched seats, Rory mentally thanking her father for convincing her to get her license even though she had never actually had a car. She’d learned for the sake of learning, but had been fine bumming rides from her friends when she had still been in school.

“So…I have a bit of a surprise for you,” Rory told him as she started up the SUV, it being a bit bigger than anything she was used to. “Mom and Dad’s flight doesn’t come in until tomorrow afternoon.” 

“Okay, and I’m assuming we’ll come pick them up-so?” he asked, completely missing her point.

“So…we have the house to ourselves for an entire day.”


	16. Chapter 16

“So…does your house look exactly the same as it did in the Underworld?” Stephen asked as they drove down the highway. Rory could tell he was getting antsy, no doubt from the impending alone-time they were going to share coupled with the fact that he would be meeting her parents soon.

“Actually, I’m not taking us straight home,” she admitted, a grin blossoming on her face. “There’s someone else I want you to meet first.”

Rory could not help the enormous grin that erupted when they pulled up to a small pink house with a hand-painted sign in the front yard reading “Healing Angel Ministries: Psychic readings available.”

“Ah, I see we’re visiting Cousin Diane first?” Stephen sighed, looking at the sign and trying to remember all of the ridiculous anecdotes Rory had shared with him. Before he could think of any of the better ones, a woman came running out of the house with her arms opened toward Rory. She was tall and thin, her hair a shade of blonde only peroxide could manage. She wore a purple house coat that drifted behind her like a cape, and the make up on her face looked more appropriate for a drag show than a day at home.

“Aurora! I’m so glad to see you, lovey!” Diane shouted, hugging Rory and kissing both of her cheeks before rounding on Stephen. “And you must be the new beau…come here.”

Before Stephen could put his hand out to shake, Diane grabbed his face with both hands, staring deeply into his eyes. 

“Cancer?” she asked, looking at him in question.

“Um…I don’t think…” 

“No, Diane, he was born in January,” Rory answered for him, barely containing a snigger behind her hand.

“Ah, a Capricorn. Explains why you’re hard to read,” Diane announced with a knowing nod. “Hm…child, your root chakra is all out of alignment-tell me, have you considered any pelvic floor exercises?”

“Pelvic what?” Stephen looked like he was going to erupt into flame with how red his face was, and Rory looked like she was going to start snorting with laughter. 

“Oh don’t worry honey, it doesn’t have anything to do with your manhood! You men, all alike. No, your aura is red as can be. Bet he’s a tiger in the sack, huh Ror?”

“Okay, okay Diane…I think he is sufficiently terrified,” Rory laughed, holding her stomach as Diane turned back to Stephen with a wink. He relaxed only slightly as she let go of his face, trying his best to give them a smile but having something that more resembled a grimace.

“Sorry, sweetheart, ‘ya looked too innocent to not have a go at,” Diane admitted, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your aura is actually a lovely blue.” She turned to Rory to provide explanation. “Kind, creative, and sensitive, but moody as all hell.”

“That’s my Stephen,” Rory teased, finally coming over and taking one of Stephen’s hands. “Stephen Dene, this is my cousin Diane. Diane, this is Stephen.” 

“Your third eye…it’s wide open,” she told them both, and neither of them really was sure who she was talking to. “A lot has changed in both your lives lately. A lot of awareness. Come inside, I made tea.” 

Diane bounded away into the house, leaving Stephen and Rory still standing on the front walk.

“Is she…for real?” Stephen finally asked, sending Rory into fits of giggles all over again. 

“I swear, she’s harmless,” she laughed. “Kind of like a really life-like cartoon character once you get to know her.” 

“What’s a pelvic floor?” he asked, following her inside.

 

 

“Did I do something wrong?” Stephen asked as they climbed back into the car an hour later, having shared a beverage that was definitely not tea with Cousin Diane as well as many more moments that turned Stephen the color of a tomato. “Because I’ve read your country’s Constitution and I believe there’s something in there about cruel and unusual punishment.” 

“Diane’s harmless, you just have to learn to smile and nod,” Rory laughed. 

“I’m English, we don’t smile,” he teased back, looking at her with an exasperated expression. “Does she really believe all that? Chakras and auras and the lot?”

“I think it makes her comfortable when she can’t explain some of the higher powers of the universe,” Rory shrugged. “Or she’s just CooCoo for Cocoa Puffs-honestly I’m not sure which.” 

Stephen looked somewhat confused at her reference before they pulled out of the driveway and back on to the road. 

Rory couldn’t explain the odd feeling as she saw her home for the first time in months-almost as if she thought it would somehow be different from the way she left it. 

“It’s bigger than what it looked like in…you know,” Stephen mentioned as they pulled into the long gravel drive and began to pull their bags out of the back. “Is that a pool in the back?”

“Everyone here has a pool-goes with the hundred degree weather year round,” she explained, leading him up to the covered front porch. “It’s not usually this warm in the winter, but global warming and all that-we can swim year round now.” 

They had paid a housekeeper to come by and tidy the house once a week while her parents were on sabbatical, but it didn’t change the fact that the house didn’t feel lived in when they entered. The normal smells and feels were off, but Rory was at least thankful that the air conditioning had been left at a comfortable temperature. 

“Welcome to Chez Deveaux,” she sighed, flinging her bags on the floor and holding her arms out in presentation. 

“It’s nice,” Stephen said, looking around at the pictures of Rory and her family lining the walls of the hallway. “It…feels like home.” 

“I don’t suppose you visit home very often?” she asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I haven’t been back to my parents’ home since before Gina died,” he explained. “It was never really home anyway.” 

Rory turned and took the bags out of Stephen’s hands and sat them on the floor so she could hug him, his arms wrapping around her instinctively. 

“This can always be your home-I’m sorry you didn’t have that until now.” 

“Thanks, but you can’t really miss something you never had,” he explained, shrugging. “I’ve liked living with Callum and Boo. Certainly better than living on my own.”

“Star Wars and paperwork all day?” Rory teased. 

“Callum is really starting to rub off on you-and I’m not liking it so much.” 

They shared a laugh, Rory going up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck before picking up her bags again. 

“Come on, I’ll show you around-let’s go put our stuff in my room.” 

“Your room? Rory, I am not going to sleep with you with your parents here-it wouldn’t be appropriate.” 

“Which is why we’re going to set you up in the guest room before they get home so that’s what they think you did,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “You’re really going to leave me all alone in my big, cold bed?” She jutted out her lower lip, earning an eye roll from Stephen this time. 

“Fine-I just don’t want to give your parents any reason to hate me before I even meet them.” 

“I told you, they’re going to love you.” 

It was strange being in Rory’s room-since the last time they had both seen it they had been in a hallucinogenic version of the Underworld-neither of them knowing for sure how much of it had been real. It looked exactly the same as Rory remembered-the pink and blue quilt thrown haphazardly over her bed, the Mardi Gras beads draped over one of the posts-and with one look it was obvious that Stephen was feeling the same kind of deja vù. 

“Strange, right?” she asked, looking around at her familiar room and trying to remember if anything had been moved from the illusion.

“What? Being in your room or remembering the last time I saw it from two thousand miles away?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he spotted the One Direction poster on the back of her door. 

“You weren’t my first British love, I admit it,” she sighed, following his eyes to the poster. 

“I’m willing to let that pass if you tell me what in the bloody hell that thing is,” he said, pointing to a large amulet hanging over the head of her bed. Rory laughed, going over and taking it off its tack and showing him how the light reflected off the shiny surface.

“It’s a gris-gris,” she explained. “It’s a Cajun good luck charm. It keeps the bad spirits at bay and lets the good ones in.”

“Kind of ironic considering your most recent profession change,” he sighed, looking at the amulet once more. “So, is VooDoo another Cousin Diane thing?”

“No, I just always loved the Cajun culture-it’s really rich and has great stories. I’ll have to tell you sometime.” 

She put the amulet back on the wall and pulled Stephen over to her desk, showing her the multitude of pictures and ticket stubs she had saved and placed around her mirror. 

“These are my friends-Lana is going to freak when she finds out I’m dating a British guy-she’s a total anglophile. And this is Heather-I can’t wait for her to find out I’m in town and didn’t call her-she’ll try to kill me over the phone.”

“If you want to see your friends, it’s okay, you know,” he told her, giving her a small smile.

“I know. It’s just…after the last six months, it’s like…they’re from another life,” she explained. “I don’t even know what I would say anymore.”

“Professional hazard,” he sighed in agreement, looking at a family photo of Rory and her parents. “So…what time are we expecting Mum and Dad?”

“Their flight comes in at two tomorrow,” she explained, looking out the window to where the sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon. “I’m gonna freshen up. Meet me at the pool for an evening swim?”

 

Stephen sat beside the pool in shorts and a t-shirt, looking at his phone mindlessly as he wondered how it could possibly be so warm after the sun had disappeared when Rory called to him.

It was a good thing he had been sitting down, because he probably would have tripped over his own feet at the sight of her. She had changed into a red swim suit, although the word “suit” implied that it covered at least a portion of her body, while this one did not seem to do so. Stephen dropped his phone on to the glass-topped patio table with a loud clunk, and his face turned pink as he tried to recover without it being too painfully obvious how embarrassed he was.

“Well, I’d ask how I look but I don’t want you to break the table,” Rory teased, admittedly feeling a little self-conscious in the suit but knowing full-well what it was going to do to Stephen and going for it. She never would have worn the suit in public-it was one Granny Deveaux had insisted on getting for her.

Stephen left his phone on the table and crossed the concrete patio to her, although he kept his eyes on just about anything but her body as he did so. He was thankful for the darkness that had started to settle around the yard, as it hid his still flaming cheeks. 

“You look…absolutely gorgeous,” he answered, finally meeting her eyes shyly. 

“Stephen, you’ve seen me naked, how hard could this be?” she teased, reaching up and placing her hands on either side of his face, which had reddened even darker at her comment. 

“I know, it’s just really…” he trailed off, Rory giving him a quick peck on the lips, Stephen’s head following hers as he clearly wanted more.

“Really what?” she whispered, trying her best to sound seductive.

“…really hot,” he answered, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him.

“Yeah? You should probably cool off then,” she teased, Stephen having only a fraction of a second to guess her intentions before she pushed him into the pool, a huge splash covering her giggles.

Her giggles lessened as she waited for him to surface, Rory figuring that he was taking a second to compose himself before coming back up. It was just dark enough that she couldn’t see the bottom of the pool, the surface of the water reflecting what little light there was and preventing her from seeing into it.

“Okay, Stephen, very funny,” she laughed, her smile fading slightly as the bubbles stopped coming to the surface. “Stephen?”

She leaned down to the edge of the pool, frantically searching the water before two arms emerged and dragged her in. She surfaced immediately, spluttering and flinging her hair out of her eyes to see Stephen laughing from the edge where he was peeling his now soaked shirt off. 

“I rowed for ten years-I know how to swim,” he teased, obviously glad to have regained some footing in this little battle they were having. “Done trying to drive me crazy?”

She laughed, treading water over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, Stephen’s instinctively wrapping around her waist to hold her up in the water.

“I was just having fun,” she whined, letting her legs wrap around his waist next so he was holding her up completely. His feet could just barely touch the bottom, while she had to tread water, so it was only fair. 

“Yes, very fun to make Stephen implode,” he replied sarcastically, closing his eyes as Rory ruffled his dripping hair. She gave him another kiss, this time letting it linger more before she broke it again, Stephen sighing in frustration at the loss once more. 

“Ever think you’d be swimming outdoors in December?” she asked, keeping herself above the water as Stephen allowed his body to float in place.

“Not intentionally, no,” he admitted. “I fell into the Thames once during a case. Not very fun-definitely didn’t smell as nice.” 

“I’m buying you a helmet for your birthday,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. “Or at the very least some knee and elbow pads.” She pushed away from him and ducked herself underwater to fix her hair, kicking away and across the length of the pool. “Close your eyes.” 

“Why?”

“Just do it, chicken,” she complained, Stephen obeying and closing his eyes while Rory swam around him. “You’re supposed to say, ‘Marco.’ Don’t they have that game in England?”

“Yes, we have that game,” he spat, though there was no edge to it. “Marco.”

“Polo,” he heard Rory from his right side, and he slowly let himself drift in that direction.

“Marco.”

“Polo.”

“Marco.”

He thought he was getting closer, but rather than a ‘Polo’ this time he felt something hit him in the face. Assuming this was just another of Rory’s jokes, he opened his eyes, only to let out a shaky breath at what it was-Rory’s top. 

He whipped his head around quickly, only to find an empty pool behind him. He looked the other direction, but his question was answered when he felt hands that were definitely not his own reaching into his shorts. 

“Oh my god…” he whispered, looking around to make sure no one was around and dropping Rory’s swim suit back into the pool. He was just about to grab it again to throw it out the side when Rory did something under the water that made his brain completely shut down and revert to only the primal need of breathing and blinking. He reached out to hold the edge of the pool for support, not even thinking about how long she’d been underwater until she stopped and surfaced in front of him, a catlike grin on her face. 

“You…are going to be the death of me,” he laughed softly, allowing her to wrap her arms around him once more. He gasped when he remembered she had no top on, the feel of skin-to-skin contact setting his own ablaze as she kissed him again. 

“You’re not the only one who knows a thing or two about the water,” she said teasingly.

“You’re very talented.” 

“You want talent?” She asked, raising one of her hands above the water. “I did this while I was under there.” She held up the bottoms of her swim suit.

The next time they kissed, it was a while before they separated, Rory fairly certain she was never going to be able to look at her backyard swimming pool ever again without blushing and remembering what they did in it. After a shower together that went very cold before they were finished, they went to bed, where they both slept like the dead until morning.

Rory had just woken up to the bright sunlight coming through her window, her face heating up when she remembered the evening before. She looked down at where Stephen was sprawled out beside her in his Eton sweatpants, wondering how she had gotten so lucky to have him by her side…

…when her mother opened her bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to check out some of the lore on Cajun gris-gris. Super interesting.


	17. Chapter 17

“Rory, honey, come on, breakfast is ready,” Mrs. Deveaux said out loud, Rory’s eyes going as large as dinner plates. Stephen took a couple seconds to wake up and realize what was happening, and with a very unmanly yelp he rolled out of the bed and thudded on the floor on the side away from the door. 

“Mom! I thought your flight came in at two?” Rory asked stupidly, trying to ignore the sound of Stephen hyperventilating on her bedroom floor. 

“Yeah, two this morning. It was a red eye so we wouldn’t get jet lag. Now come on, your food is getting cold. And Stephen, dear?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Stephen’s head popped up from behind Rory’s bed, it obviously doing him no good to hide.

“It’s nice to meet you. Would you like coffee or tea? Hot, of course.”

“Um…coffee, please. N-nice to meet you too, Mrs. Deveaux.”

“Coffee it is,” she answered, giving Rory a wink. “Hurry up, you two.”

After the door closed, Rory rolled over quickly to find Stephen lying on his back on the floor, clutching one of the blankets from her bed to his bare chest. “This is it. I’ve actually died. There is no coming back from this.” 

“Oh shut up, she didn’t seem mad,” Rory told him, throwing a pillow in his face. “It’s not like we were naked.” 

“Thank god we got dressed last night,” he whispered, still staring into space as if contemplating jumping out the window instead of going downstairs. 

“Seriously…I…I think she might have been…okay,” Rory told him again, getting up and pulling an old school hoodie over her pajamas. “But even so…maybe put on a shirt?”

 

When they arrived downstairs, Rory was still barefoot in her pajamas and hoodie, while Stephen had insisted on getting completely dressed. His face went beet-red at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Deveaux in the kitchen, although the latter greeted him with another smile. 

“Good morning, sleepy-heads,” Rory’s mom was in the process of pouring four mugs of coffee, handing one to Stephen, who immediately took a drink of the scalding liquid. “Stephen, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” 

“Jim Deveaux,” Mr. Deveaux paused where he was stirring scrambled eggs in a pan and stuck his hand out to shake Stephen’s. 

“Stephen Dene, nice to meet you sir,” Stephen replied quickly, setting his coffee down to shake Mr. Deveaux’s hand properly. 

“Jim, please,” he responded, going back to dishing out eggs on to all the plates that were lined up on the counter. “Hope you don’t mind that lumpy bed in the guest room.”

Mrs. Deveaux gave Rory and Stephen both a conspiratorial wink, Stephen looking like he was prepared to bow at Mrs. Deveaux's feet in worship. 

Stephen was saved from having to give any sort of reply by Rory hugging her father, her mother joining in right after. 

“We’ve missed you, Squirt,” Mr. Deveaux said, kissing the top of Rory’s head. “Oh! Lin, I forgot that sauce we brought back!” Mr. Deveaux sat the frying pan down and ran out of the room, Mrs. Deveaux giving them a smile. 

“Your father fell in love with ‘brown sauce’ in Bristol,” she said by way of explanation. “And you two are safe, I didn’t say a word. Rory love, you’re an adult and I respect you, but please don’t do anything to give your dad a heart attack, okay?” 

“Dr. Deveaux, I apologize for-“ 

“Nothing to apologize for sweetheart, I’m sure my daughter coerced you in some way, shape, or form anyway,” Mrs. Deveaux waved him off. “Just promise me you’ll take care of her and won’t let her do anything too dangerous and we’re square.” 

Stephen gave her a surprised smile, nodding feebly. “You and I both know that’s easier said than done, but I promise anyway.”

Mrs. Deveaux gave him another smile and pulled him in for a hug as well, catching him completely off-guard. “Thank you for keeping her safe. We’re glad to have you here, honey.” 

He smiled again, looking at Rory as if he couldn’t believe his luck, and she gave him a very “I told you so” smile in return, just as Mr. Deveaux returned with his bottle of sauce. 

“You brits and your sauce, I don’t know why English cuisine gets such a bad rap,” he sighed, shaking a hearty serving of the sauce on to one plate before handing off the rest. “Hope you like eggs, Stephen, it was about the only thing we had in the fridge.”

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” he answered, following Rory to the table and sitting beside her. 

“So, Stephen, I was going to go hunting today, would you like to join me?” Mr. Deveaux asked in the middle of breakfast, Stephen nearly choking on his coffee but managing to swallow without spilling any.

“Hunting?”

“Yeah, quail season,” he explained. “It’s a bit late in the day, but I’ve been wanting to go for months.” 

“He’s never been hunting, Dad,” Rory sighed. “Is this some sort of ‘you hurt my daughter I’ll break your legs’ talk? Because he’s a grown man, not some dweeb taking me to prom.”

“Rory, I am a learned man of high law,” Mr. Deveaux replied. “And I’m not afraid to tell him that at the table. Stephen, you don’t intend on hurting my daughter, do you?”

Stephen shook his head with such voracity Rory had to wonder if he gave himself a headache. 

“Excellent,” Mr. Deveaux answered. “Now that we have that settled, I’m just glad to have another guy to talk to. So, are you coming? We’ll give the girls time to catch up.”

“How very patriarchal of you, honey,” Mrs. Deveaux replied, both she and Rory responding with matching eye rolls.

“Yeah dad, Mom and I will just put on our petticoats and wait for the men to come back and tell us where to put all the sandwiches we make in the mean time.”

“Oh, I’ve missed you two teaming up on me,” Mr. Deveaux sighed. “Please, Stephen, I’m on my knees here.” 

“Um…sure. As long as you don’t mind a novice following you around,” he agreed, though he looked about as comfortable with the idea as he would be with discussing the previous evening’s events with those currently sat at the table. 

“Don’t worry, Stephen, it’s mostly drinking beer and laughing about how the women don’t know that’s what you’re doing instead of actually hunting,” Mrs. Deveaux answered, giving him another warm smile that almost made him relax. 

 

 

“So, spill it,” Mrs. Deveaux said twenty minutes later, handing Rory a plate to dry and reaching back into the soapy water for another. 

“Spill what?” Rory asked, looking at her mother expectantly.

“Please, for the last half-hour we’ve talked about school, your friends, the weather for goodness sakes,” she sighed. “But not one word about the young man I found you in bed with this morning?” She raised her eyebrow at her daughter, putting one hand on her hip. “I didn’t raise a fool. Spill it.”

“It’s not like you found us…you know,” she said, feeling her cheeks redden. “We were just sleeping mom. You know how long that flight is.” 

“Rory, I’m not treating you like a child, so don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Rory’s mother grabbed a towel and dried her hands, leading them both to the table to sit. “I don’t need any details-you’re an adult now, and I trust you.”

Rory couldn’t believe how this was going-although she had to admit she was still somewhat stuck in child-mode, since she had been one legally the last time she’d seen her mother. 

“Well, then what do you want to know?”

“Like…is he good to you? Do you love him? Do I need to give you a lecture about birth control?”

“No. No, to that last one-I definitely do not need you to do that,” she replied, holding her hands up. “And yes, mom, he’s very good to me. He treats me like…like a real person, and not just…a girlfriend.”

“You said he worked on the case when you were attacked? He just looks so young to be a police officer.”

“He is…actually his birthday is in a couple weeks, he’ll be twenty,” she explained. “It’s a long story, but he’s actually really good at what he does, and I respect him a lot for it.”

“And you deciding you wanted to become a police officer too all of a sudden? This had nothing to do with him?”

“Well, of course it had to do with him,” she admitted. “But…I really do love the work. It’s interesting, and…fulfilling. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, sweetheart, if it’s what makes your heart sing then go for it,” her mom sighed once more. “I just want to make sure you’re making this decision for you and no one else.”

“I am, mom, I promise.”

“I can’t help but notice which question you’re avoiding though,” her mom raised her eyebrow once more. “Do you love him?”

Rory sighed, figuring the truth was her best bet right now, since this was the only case where she could actually tell it. “I do. I love him so much, and I know he loves me too.”

“Just be careful with your heart, baby. You only get one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with some heavy material. I did a lot of research, and I intend no offense with the use of what I hope is appropriate dialect for the region and time period. Please see the end of the chapter for more notes.

Rory and her mother looked up at the sound of the door over an hour later, a very jovial looking Mr. Deveaux coming in followed by Stephen, who aside from a small scratch on his face beside his eye, looked unscathed. 

“Did a quail fight back?” Rory asked, gesturing to the small scrape on Stephen’s face, only then noticing how pale he looked. 

“You won’t believe it, Ror-You know that old elm out in the clearing by the glen? A limb must have come loose in a storm or something, fell practically right on top of us,” Mr. Deveaux explained, getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator and handing a second to Stephen. “I swear, it was like someone lobbed it right at us.”

At that, Rory turned and gave Stephen a curious glance, noticing him staring meaningful daggers at her as if trying to communicate via mind-messages. 

“Good thing Stephen was with me-it’s like he could see it coming. Pushed me out of the way just in time. I still say it was like it practically went through him though.”

Now it made sense-at least Stephen’s pallor. Something had happened to make Stephen use his ability, but whether it was an honest fluke of nature or something ghost related was still to be seen. 

“No, just good reflexes I suppose,” Stephen answered, taking a drink of the water and sitting at the table for a moment. “I should take you out and show you the limb, Rory-easily could have done us both in.” He stared at her intently, and she realized this was no fluke-there was a ghost near her home, and it had attacked her father. 

“Well, I’m free right now, and I could use a walk,” she suggested, pulling Stephen up by the arm.

“Stephen, honey, are you feeling okay? You’re awfully pale,” Mrs. Deveaux stepped forward and laid a hand on Stephen’s forehead. “The heat isn’t getting to you, is it? Here, take another bottle of water and Rory, put sunscreen on him!”

Rory practically had to defend against her mother who was throwing sunscreen and gatorade at them as they left, Stephen not knowing whether to take it or run for his life. 

“What the hell happened?” She asked as soon as they were clear of the house, walking through the outcropping of trees just behind her home.

“Ghost,” Stephen answered, taking another drink of water. 

“Obviously, but what actually happened?”

“A kid,” he started, walking just far enough to sit on a tree stump, putting his head down. “I don’t even think he realized that I saw him. He jumped from limb to limb and just…threw one. I pushed your dad out of the way and tried to let it fall through me, but it grazed me just a bit.” He pointed to his head at the small scratch. 

“You’re lucky.” 

“What? To not be hurt or to not have your dad see me?”

“Both, really. Although one I could have dealt with a lot more than the other,” she admitted, inspecting the cut from where she stood in front of him. “Are you all right? My mom was right, you are pale. I mean, more than normal.” 

He gave her a weak smile. “I’m fine. It just always takes a bit out of me to do the ghost thing. Just give me a minute.” 

She leaned down and kissed his cheek, and for a moment he looked like he could lay on the ground and sleep right then and there. 

“Sorry about the scare this morning. And about my dad-how was the trip other than that? Did he give you ‘the talk?’”

“No, actually,” Stephen admitted, watching Rory as she walked around behind him. She put her hands on each of his shoulders and began to knead the muscles there, Stephen giving a small moan before letting his head fall to his chest. “I didn’t really do much talking. Just listened.” 

“Yeah, sorry, dad was telling the truth when he said he never gets to talk to any guys.” She found a knot and worked it out with her fingers, earning an appreciative noise from Stephen. “Let me guess: ’87 Camaro, his personal best at golf, and the time he went 4-0 on a civil suit?”

“Every one,” Stephen admitted with a laugh. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m never going to move from this spot.” 

She stopped and came back around to his front, kissing the top of his head. “To be continued, then. Now, where was this kid? I know these woods pretty well.” 

“Near a waterfall. There was a clearing in a copse of trees right before we got there,” he explained, taking Rory’s offered hand and standing back up, noting the confused look on her face. “What?”

“I know the place. We used to play there all the time when I was little.” 

“Okay, why the face?”

“It’s just…we used to joke about it,” she began. “Weird things would always happen there.” 

“Weird…how?” Stephen asked, furrowing his brow as they began walking in the direction of the clearing.

“We would lose things, but then find other things,” she explained. “The ball we left might not be there the next day, but in its place we would find a shiny rock, or a pinecone. We would joke that it was the forest playing with us.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t the forest,” he sighed, taking her hand as they walked. 

“Stephen, are you telling me I was playing with a ghost when I was a kid?”

“Maybe not intentionally, but it certainly sounds that way.” 

 

As they approached the clearing, Rory put a hand out in front of Stephen, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Listen…do you hear that?”

At first the only sound was the wind in the trees, but as they walked on silently, it became evident that there was more melody than what was simply carried by the wind. Sure enough, the closer they got, the more it was decipherable as a voice.

“Stephen…someone’s singing…” 

“When the sun comes back  
and the firs’ quail calls,  
Follow the drinkin’ gourd.  
The old man a’waitin’ for to carry you to freedom  
If you follow the drinkin’ gourd.”

They stepped cautiously into the clearing, the sound of the waterfall just barely audible over the gentle singing that filled the small meadow. Rory pointed to the edge of the trees, when they could just make out the wispy figure of a young boy.

His skin was dark, and combined with the shadowy effect of being a ghost it allowed him to blend in to the darkness between the trees. However, he wore a long-sleeved white shirt that looked to be made of wool or something of the like despite the heat of the day. He was barefoot, and he sat amongst the trees singing as he twisted blades of grass into a braid.

“Hello? Don’t be afraid…we’re not here to hurt you.”

“Rory!” Stephen hissed between his teeth, just as the little boy jumped up from his place among the trees. “Be careful!”

“Miss Rory?” the boy asked, approaching her with no hint of fear whatsoever. 

“You…you know my name?” Rory asked, wondering if Stephen had said it loud enough for the boy to hear. 

The boy nodded, and Stephen stepped forward, putting himself just slightly between the boy and Rory. 

“Why did you throw the limb at me earlier?” Stephen asked gently, uncertain if this small child of a ghost was a threat. 

“You din see it, mistuh?”

The boy had a thick southern accent, with just a hint of something more exotic-a musical, lilting tilt to the ends of his words. 

“See what?”

The little boy reached out and took Stephen’s hand, Rory not sure if he was able to actually do this or if it was only because Stephen could do what he could. The boy led them only a few yards out of the clearing, near the stream where he pointed toward the water. There, standing in the middle of the stream, was a black bear. 

“She was’a gonna get ‘ya,” the boy explained. “Gettin’ food fo’ her long sleep.” 

Stephen stood flabbergasted, having clearly never seen a bear outside of a zoo before. “So you…you were saving us.” 

The boy nodded, looking back at Rory. 

“Why you don’t come play no mo’ Miss Rory?” he asked, stepping toward her with a confused expression on his face. 

“I…I guess I grew up. What’s your name?” She asked, amazed at what was going on in front of her eyes. 

“Andre,” he answered, looking between Rory and Stephen. “Is this yo’ copain?”

“Copain?” she repeated, looking confused. 

“Est-ce que tu parles français?” Stephen stepped forward, Rory watching him in even more confusion that before. 

“Oui monsieur. Ton accent est drôle,” he answered excitedly.

“D'où êtes-vous?” 

“Burkina Faso.” 

Stephen finally turned to Rory, translating the French he’d been speaking. “He’s from Burkina Faso-it’s in Africa. Es-tu seul?"

“Je suis venu ici avec ma mère.” 

“Où est-elle?”

The little boy stopped speaking after Stephen’s question, looking down. “She din’ come back from the tree.” 

There was a short silence, Stephen turning to Rory once more. “He said he came with his mother, but I don’t understand…” 

“I do,” Rory answered quietly, pointing to the little boy’s neck. With his head down, it was more obvious now-a dark, scarred circle surrounding the boy’s neck.

“Andre…if there was a way for you to get back to your mother…would you want to do it?” she asked, kneeling before the small boy but being careful not to touch him. 

“You know where she is?” the boy asked, looking up. 

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “But…I think when she died, she went…on.” 

“To the Promis’ Land?”

A look of dawning came to Stephen’s face, Rory realizing he apparently had enough American history to realize the situation. This boy had been a slave. His mother had been a slave as well, and like so many, they had been killed. 

“If you want to call it that, sure,” Rory sighed. “More…just not here anymore.” 

“How?”

Rory wiped a tear from her eye. She was certain it was impossible for her to feel worse right now. This child had been separated from his mother for what was easily over two hundred and fifty years. He’d been subjected to some of the worst treatment in recorded history, and she had unknowingly been his best friend for years. 

“I just have to touch you.” 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” 

“But I used to play with you all the time…I never wen’ away then.”

“It’s…different now,” Rory explained, shaking her head and trying to keep her voice steady. There was another moment of silence, the sounds of the forest seemingly falling away as the boy raised his head once more, and put his hand out to Rory. 

“Bye, Miss Rory.” 

“Bye, Andre. Thanks for saving Stephen and my dad.” She gave a short laugh, tears now falling freely down her face. 

“That’s okay. You don’ have to cry, Miss Rory.” With a small smile, he took Rory’s hand, and the smell of flowers filled the air around them. 

 

“I can’t believe this…any of this…” Rory said quietly. She and Stephen had sat down in the empty clearing, Rory sobbing against Stephen’s chest for a good twenty minutes before she could compose herself enough to speak. “Why? It’s not fair…” 

“None of what we do is fair,” Stephen answered her quietly, his hand gently petting her hair. 

“That little boy was killed, his mother was killed, and probably all of his family…”

“I know,” he replied, nodding. “I didn’t catch on as quickly as you, but…I think I put it together in the end.” 

“He’s been alone, all these years.” 

“Not alone…he had you.” 

“And I didn’t even know he existed,” Rory whispered, wiping her face once again. “God, Stephen, did you ever wish you could take it back? Just…give up The Sight and go back to before you had it?”

“Of course I have,” he answered. “But…but I don’t think I would still be here if I did.” 

“I’m sorry…that was inconsiderate,” she whispered back to him. “I didn’t mean it, not really. But Jesus, it’s just not fair…” 

“It’s not. But…for what it’s worth…I think what you did is admirable.” 

“What I did was the only merciful thing to do,” she told him. “I don’t even know what it does to them, but at least they don’t have to be lost and alone anymore.” 

“No, but I think someone has to shoulder that feeling…and I guess it has to be us,” he answered with a small shrug.  
“You’re not lost, or alone,” she told him, giving him a small smile and sniffing away the last of her tears. 

“Not anymore, anyway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louisiana has an extremely long and bloody history of slavery. Andre, a name I selected from the Afro-Louisiana History and Genealogy database, would have been from the period of history between 1699-1763, known as the French Rule. During this time, African slaves from western and central Africa (including the area today known as Burkina Faso) were bought and sold into this area. 
> 
> His dialect would have been a mixture of his native French and Southern Louisiana drawl. The only thing anachronistic to his time period would be the song "Follow the Drinking Gourd," which was commonly thought to have been a song used as code on The Underground Railroad. The Underground Railroad was not known of until the 1830s, implying that my Andre from the story remained on land occupied by slaves throughout his afterlife. He probably picked up this song, and most of his english, from others enslaved on this land. 
> 
> Anyone interested in learning the history of slavery in Louisiana should check out The Whitney Plantation, a museum dedicated to the history of slavery in the state (https://www.whitneyplantation.com/). 
> 
> Again, I researched heavily, and hope I did not offend anyone. 
> 
>  
> 
> Also, black bears are common to Louisiana, although it would be unlikely one would not be hibernating already in December. I'm not perfect.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter, as it's just for transitional purposes before I wrap the whole thing up. Thanks for the support! 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> PLEASE SEE THE END NOTES FOR A POTENTIAL SPOILER/TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER AND NEXT.

“Well, that’s enough for me,” Mrs. Deveaux said through a yawn as she rose from the sofa, dragging a half-asleep Mr. Deveaux with her. The four of them had been watching a movie in the living room for the evening, Rory and Stephen both thankful that both her parents had been off visiting relatives when they returned from the woods that afternoon. They had avoided having to make up any story about what they had been up to, and had already showered (separately, to Rory’s chagrin) and were on the sofa when her parents had returned. 

“We’re gonna hit the hay, you two don’t stay up too late,” Mrs. Deveaux told them, dropping a kiss on the top of Rory’s head and surprising Stephen when he got one too. 

“We won’t mom, goodnight. Goodnight, dad.” 

“So that’s what it’s like to have parents who care about you,” Stephen mused sarcastically, still reeling slightly from the attention. 

“See? I told you they would love you,” Rory replied, yawning and stretching as she sprawled across Stephen’s lap. 

“Want to go to bed?” 

“With you,” Rory teased, looking up at him from where she lay. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he teased back, helping her sit up. “I’ll only be across the hall.”

“I know, but you’re like my own personal furnace-it’s going to be cold without you,” she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, causing Stephen to give a low chuckle. 

“You only love me for my exothermicity.”

“That, and your vocabulary,” she laughed, leaning over and giving him a kiss, surprising him with a nip of his bottom lip.

“Rory,” Stephen growled. “Stop that.”

She whined again, finally standing up and pulling him off the couch. “Fine. Come on, before I jump you.”

 

Stephen had been tossing and turning for what had felt like hours, though he suspected it had been much less than that when his door opened slowly. He suspected it was one of Rory’s parents making sure he was in his own bed, so he remained in his position facing away from the door. It wasn’t until he felt the mattress shift that he whipped his head around, finding Rory crawling over to him and laying practically on top of him.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest. 

“Rory, you can’t stay in here…” 

“Why not?” She whined. “It’s not like we’re doing it, we’re just sleeping.” 

“I don’t think your dad is going to see it that way,” he whispered back, finding himself not trying to move her in the slightest. If anything, his eyes already felt heavier with her lying against him. 

“Dad is the heaviest sleeper in the world, and mom never gets up before eight,” she mumbled, sounding like she was falling asleep too. 

“Fine…just a couple hours, then back to your own bed,” Stephen yawned, adjusting his pillow and closing his eyes. “I’m not getting a surprise wake up call again.” 

“Just a few…hours….”

 

Rory could have sworn she heard music somewhere, but she convinced herself that she was just dreaming and turned back over, snuggling against the warm body beside her. Unfortunately, the music did not stop, and within moments she also realized it was much too bright in the room. The spare room. Where she was not supposed to be. 

Stephen grumbled and draped his arm over his eyes, mumbling in his still half-asleep state. “Ror, turn off your alarm.”

Rory jumped, coming fully awake within moments and preparing to run for her phone in her room, but before she could, the door opened and her very sleepy-looking father tossed the phone in to her on the bed. 

“Turn that thing off, Rory,” he mumbled, mentioning nothing of the fact that Stephen was very clearly asleep in the bed with her, and despite the fact that they were both fully-clothed, they had clearly been there all night. 

She clicked off the alarm, shaking Stephen awake. “Stephen…Stephen, wake up, we slept in.” 

His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and slightly dewy from sleep. “What time-oh, no. No, Rory, I have to-“ He started to run out the door, only to have Mr. Deveaux pass him in the hallway. 

“Good morning, Stephen.” 

“Good morning, Sir.” 

“Jim, please,” Mr. Deveaux replied with a yawn, seemingly nonplussed by the entire event. 

“I’m having one of those moments again,” Stephen whispered back into the room where Rory was still sitting wide-eyed on the bed. “Did I die? Again?”

 

After that morning, neither of the Deveaux elders said a word about Rory and Stephen sharing a room, although they admittedly minded their manners and did not so much as make-out in a room that they shared for the remainder of the week. Well, maybe once or twice. The week ended with them sitting in the airport terminal, Stephen already knocked out from his double-dose of Dramamine Rory had slipped him at breakfast. Mr. Deveaux had agreed to stand in the impossibly-long line for coffee, leaving Rory alone (Stephen hardly counted in this state) with her mother. 

“Rory…I wanted to talk to you about something,” Mrs. Deveaux said as Rory turned off her phone, preparing for the long flight ahead of them. 

“Mom…is this about sharing a room? Because I swear, nothing happened…” 

“It’s not that, honey, I trust you,” she admitted, laying her hand on top of Rory’s. “This job-you’re not a regular police officer, are you?”

Rory stared at her mother, not sure what to say. Stephen was a master at lying on the fly when it came to covering for their less-than-ordinary profession, but he was out of commission for at least the next eight hours or so. 

“Um…mom, I…I can’t really talk about it…” she replied, flustered, ready for an argument. 

“I figured as much,” her mother answered, nodding. “Just…are you safe?”

“What?” Rory wasn’t used to being surprised by her parents-but this week it seemed they were throwing something at her left and right. 

“Between the phone calls, the murder investigations, and the way Stephen followed you around in Bristol for a month-yes, I know about it.” 

Rory’s eyes had gone huge. Stephen had insisted on keeping her under surveillance for the month she spent with her parents after Newman had attacked her, but even she hadn’t known about it at the time. 

“Anyway…I know that whatever you’re doing…it’s big, isn’t it?” Her mother asked, finally turning to look Rory in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah, mom it is.” 

“And Stephen is involved, too?”

“Yes. And there’s three more of us in London,” Rory admitted. “I promise you, I’m as safe as I can be with them-I trust all of them with my life.” 

“Is this some sort of James Bond thing?” Mrs. Deveaux asked, sending them both into a quiet fit of giggles. 

“No…not quite,” Rory sighed, watching Stephen grunt and turn over on the airport terminal chair. “It’s…something good though. And one day, I’m sure I’ll be able to tell you, but…until then…” 

“Mum’s the word, got it,” Mrs. Deveaux nodded. “Rory, hun, one more question.” 

“Yeah?”

“Does Stephen know you drugged him?”

 

“I’d be perfectly fine if I never flew again,” Stephen mumbled as they walked through the terminal at Heathrow. “I feel like I went through the baggage claim myself.” 

“Sorry about that,” Rory chuckled, taking a sip of her coffee. It was six in the morning London time, and having not slept a wink on the return trip, she knew she was going to need a few more of these to stay awake for the rest of the day. 

“Are you all right?” Stephen asked, turning to observe her as they walked. “You’ve been…quiet.”

“Just miss Mom and Dad, that’s all,” she admitted. “It’s weird to know I’ll never actually live with them again.” 

“I take it they don’t know that yet?”

“I think they know more than they let on,” she admitted. “I figure this summer we can go back and get my things. Maybe I’ll tell them more then.” 

“Well, if they were as relaxed as they were with everything over the last week, maybe they’ll take it better than you think.” 

“They definitely surprised me a few times,” she replied, nodding her head. “Although I still don’t think I’ll ever be able to swim in that pool again.” 

Rory was thankful that Stephen was quiet in the cab back to their flat, as it gave her time to reflect on what they had said at the airport. Would she be able to ever tell her family the truth about what she did now? About what happened to her? And was it set in stone that she would continue living with the Shades in London? All of it seemed more than she could handle at the moment, and she was ready to fall into their bed for a few hours once they got home. 

 

Her hopes for a nap were dashed the moment they walked into the flat. Freddie, Callum, and Boo were all gathered in the living room, looking down until they walked in the door, when all three of them snapped their heads up to look at them. 

“What’s going on?” Rory asked, concerned at the severe look on all their faces. 

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” Boo said quietly, standing up from the couch. 

“Well, no, I had to turn it off for the flight,” Rory said, growing more and more worried at the crestfallen look on her best friends’ faces. 

“We’ve been trying to call,” Freddie said, looking the most uncomfortable of the group.

“Guys, you’re freaking her out, what’s going on?” Stephen asked, Callum getting up and walking over to Stephen, standing directly in front of him. 

“Thorpe called us. Stephen…it’s your parents….” 

“What about them?” Stephen asked, his face rigid, although Rory could feel his hand shake in hers. 

“They were in a car accident…” Boo spoke from behind the sofa, only Rory seeing the tears pooled in her eyes. 

Rory’s blood ran cold. She knew that look on their faces. And she knew there was only one thing Callum could say that would match the expression they all wore.

“I’m so sorry. They died, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER/TRIGGER WARNING:  
> MINOR CHARACTER DEATH


	20. Chapter 20

The room was silent for several tense moments, Callum being the one to break it as he stepped toward Stephen. 

“I’m so sorry, mate. I really-“

“It’s fine,” Stephen interrupted, shaking his head. To any outsider it would look like he was completely unaffected, but Rory saw the tension in his stance, the slight quake in his hands and heard the minute change in his voice. “It’s not like we were close.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know?” Boo replied, stepping toward Callum with tears in her own eyes. “They were still your parents…”

“I said I’m fine!” Stephen shouted, immediately trying an extremely forced smile after he made everyone in the room jump. 

“Thorpe is on his way,” Freddie whispered to Rory, looking like she was at a complete loss for what to do in the moment. 

“You know, everyone can quit acting like this is some sort of big deal,” Stephen spoke quickly, a pinched expression on his face. “They haven’t spoken to me in over two years and they’ve always hated my guts, so it’s not like I even care.”

“I know you don’t mean that,” Callum told him, shaking his head. “Whether you got along or not, they were your family…”

“They were NOT my family!” Stephen shouted, this time directly at Callum. “I have no family! So if you could stop acting like you give a damn about what happens to me, I’d appreciate it!” Before anyone could stop him, Stephen ripped his hand out of Rory’s and punched the wall beside him so hard it left a dented, cracked mark. He was out of the room and down the hall before anyone moved. 

Rory started to follow him, concerned for his safety and his emotional state, but Callum stuck out a hand to stop her. “Just give him a little space, Ror.”

“He didn’t mean that, Callum,” she whispered back to him, now crying herself.

“I know he didn’t. And he knows it too-he’s just upset. He has a right to be. Give him some space, let him calm down, and then go talk to him if he wants.”

Boo made everybody tea, and for twenty minutes Rory was able to keep herself away from the hallway that Stephen had gone down. They heard various smashes and crashes coming from the room-no doubt Stephen throwing and breaking things in a rage that was definitely uncharacteristic of him-but it had been quiet for over ten minutes, and that was long enough in Rory’s opinion. 

Even though it was the room they shared, she knocked gently on the door before entering, seeing Stephen sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to her, his head cradled in one hand as he held the other one awkwardly in front of him. She entered silently and sat down on the bed beside him, leaving a few inches of space between them.

“Is it broken?” she asked quietly, indicating his swollen hand that hand recently gone through their living room wall.

“I don’t think so…just hurts,” he mumbled back, Rory surprised at the level quality of his voice. 

“Stephen…I don’t know what to say to you…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he answered quickly, still not looking at her. Rory suspected if he did he would lose any handle he had on the situation. 

“I just spent a week with two people who just met me, and in seven days they showed more love and affection for me than my own parents did in almost twenty years.”

Rory remained silent, watching him out of the corner of her eye. This was a time to listen, not speak.

“You know, right before I tried to kill myself, I almost stopped,” he said quietly, his voice showing only a trace of quavering. “I almost didn’t do it because I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of getting rid of both their children.” 

He sat up now, still looking at the wall in front of him and running his good hand through his hair, messing it up quite a bit. 

“They didn’t even come to see me,” he said. “When I was in hospital, the burn still fresh around my neck…they went on holiday. They went on holiday while their only son recovered from a botched suicide attempt and went skiing.”

“They didn’t deserve you,” Rory replied quietly, barely speaking loud enough to hear. 

“No. They didn’t,” he agreed. “Because you know, I always did everything right. I never missed curfew. I studied for every exam. I never fucking lived-“ He reached out and brushed everything off his bedside table with a crash, covering his face with both hands after he did so. 

“I’m not even sad. I’m not even sad that my parents are dead. I’m angry. I’m so, so angry that they didn’t even love me enough for me to care that they’re dead.”

Rory watched him for a moment more before reaching out and putting a hand on his back, which caused him to immediately lean into her, his head on her shoulder. She felt a warm wetness, so she knew he was crying, though she knew that it was too difficult to determine which emotion was causing it at the moment. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, and it was Stephen who eventually pulled away, his face pale and blank. 

“I suppose I owe Cal an apology,” he said quietly, his voice gruff from having been crying. Rory noticed how red and swollen his eyes were and knew he wished she couldn’t tell. 

“He knows you didn’t mean it,” she told him, rubbing his arm with one hand. 

“I know…but I’m still sorry I said it. He didn’t deserve that. And don’t pick any of this up-I’ll clean it later.”

Callum, Boo, and Freddie were all still sitting in the living room together silently, although Thorpe had joined them at some point while they were in their bedroom. Callum stood up as soon as Stephen walked toward him, pulling him into a hug that seemed to catch Stephen slightly off-guard. 

“Sorry, Cal.” 

“You don’t have to be, mate. I know.” 

“Stephen,” Thorpe said quietly after the embrace had ended, and Rory couldn’t help but notice he rarely called him by his first name. “I’m sorry this is happening so quickly, but your parents’ lawyers need you to come tomorrow and sign some papers. I suspect they had a Will.” 

Stephen nodded, though he didn’t say anything, looking instead like every emotion had been wringed out of him like water from a towel.

“I thought I would take the liberty of making the arrangements for you,” he suggested, Stephen nodding once again. 

“I figured they would have something planned…” 

“They did not, so it falls to the next of kin,” Thorpe explained. “You are their only surviving relative, so it becomes your choice. I will handle the arrangements.” 

“Thank you,” Stephen said flatly, just as Freddie handed him a mug of tea. He took a sip and gave a bit of a grimace. “What is this?”

“My own recipe,” Freddie replied gently. “It’ll help your nerves.” 

Rory had the odd suspicion that there was something in the tea that wasn’t entirely tea leaves, but at the moment she supposed Stephen could use something to mellow him a bit and she trusted Freddie to not do anything too extreme. 

“I suggest you try to get some rest before tomorrow,” Thorpe suggested. “I suspect you’re jet-lagged, and I’ll be here to pick you up first thing in the morning.”

 

 

Morning seemed to come un-godly early for Rory, who was unable to sleep a wink without having horrible nightmares about Stephen in the Eton boathouse. Stephen seemed to benefit slightly from Freddie’s mystery tea, but even whatever was in that only allowed him a brief, fitful sleep before he rose and got dressed in sweats, Rory watching him from the bed as he left the room. She guessed he was going for a run, and by the way he was sweating and red-faced when he returned, she guessed she had been correct. 

They dressed in silence, Rory having no idea what the dress code was for the reading of a Will, and supposing it couldn’t be that different from when her Granny Deveaux would drag her to the Southern Baptist church about once every month or so. 

Thorpe was graciously silent on the car ride to the lawyer’s office in Kent, during which time Stephen stared blankly out the window, not really seeing anything that passed. 

Rory had expected to sit in some office of dark wood with a roaring fireplace while a video played with Stephen’s parents saying something along the lines of “If you’re watching this it means we shuffled off the mortal coil, et cetera,” but she was somewhat disappointed to realize the office looked more like a bank than something out of a movie. 

Thorpe stayed, which had surprised her once more, although she supposed he had been somewhat of a parental figure to Stephen since his admission into the Shades. 

The Will itself was a mess of legal jargon, dates and addresses spouted before Stephen signed some sort of paper agreeing to the legally-binding nature of whatever there was to be said. 

“The entirety of our estate goes to our heir, Stephen Dorian Dene,” the lawyer finally said, Stephen not even trying to hide his snort of derision. 

“‘Heir,’” he spat. “Because god-forbid they refer to me as their ‘son.’”

The lawyer looked slightly perturbed by this outburst, Thorpe nodding at the man to continue reading. 

“Uh…Where were we? Ah, yes, Clause 1: The property at Penshurst, Tonbridge, Kent-net worth of 6.95 million pounds.” 

“Burn it to the ground,” Stephen deadpanned, not missing a beat. 

“Stephen…” Thorpe hissed warningly. Meanwhile, Rory was still trying to pretend her choking on her own spit had nothing to do with the fact that she found out Stephen’s childhood home was worth somewhere in the area of ten million dollars.

“Might…I suggest we put the property up for sale?” the lawyer suggested, clearly uncomfortable with the proceedings. 

“That would be favorable,” Thorpe replied, giving Stephen a warning look and earning a terse nod from him.

“Right…we’ll set to that right away. And finally, Clause 2: The net estate of Harold and Jaqueline Dene in the amount of 17.9 million pounds.”

“I don’t want it,” Stephen replied with no trace of emotion. Rory wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that her jaw was practically on the floor, and Thorpe had sat forward in his chair. 

“Stephen, you’re grieving-don’t make any rash decisions.”

“I’m not grieving. And I don’t want their money,” Stephen said, sounding much more level-headed than Rory thought she would ever be able to be again knowing that that much money existed in the world, let alone Stephen having it. 

“Unfortunately, a Last Will and Testament is a legally-binding contract,” the lawyer stammered, flipping through the pages as if the answers would be held within them. 

“My parents did not love me. I did not love them. They killed my sister, and I want absolutely nothing to do with them,” Stephen said again, looking like he was ready to jump across the desk and wring the lawyer’s neck.

“Stephen…” Rory spoke up. What he had said had just given her the inkling of an idea. 

“Rory, I mean it, I don’t want-“

“Do you trust me?” She asked quickly, looking him directly in the eye. His expression changed from annoyance to confusion. 

“Of course I do.”

“Sign the papers.” 

“But I-“

“Sign. The. Papers.”

 

 

One month later

 

“Rory, come on, this is probably not safe,” Stephen said for about the tenth time, Rory still insisting on keeping her hands over his eyes. 

“No, I’m not going to have this surprise ruined,” she responded, finally leading Stephen to a stop and situating him exactly where she wanted him, his eyes still covered. 

“Getting a birthday present is a surprise in-and-of itself,” he admitted. “And since it apparently cost you almost twenty million pounds, I’m just hoping its not an elephant…or a helicopter…or…”

“Surprise!” Rory shouted, taking her hands away from his eyes.

In front of them stood a dilapidated building. The front windows were boarded up, and there were several layers of graffiti covering the surface of what had clearly once been a shop. The surrounding shops and buildings were all modern and well-kept, making this building seem like something simply forgotten to time.

“You bought…a shack?” he asked, his face showing confusion and mild amusement. “That’s…one way to stick it to my parents, I suppose…” 

“It’s a shack now, but it’s what it’s going to be that’s important,” she explained, smiling as she looked up at the mess of a building. 

“Condemned?” Stephen asked with a slight chuckle.

“I’ve had two different building inspectors look at it,” Rory began. “And yes, the outside looks bad, but the bones of the structure are solid.” 

“Okay…” Stephen replied, drawing out the word and clearly having no idea where this was going.

“I’ve hired contractors to get the building up to code and looking nice, and that took around £750,000.”

“Rory, if you have a point, you might want to get to it, because right now it seems like you paid a million pounds for a piece of junk.”

“I gave the rest of the money to a foundation,” she explained, her face finally turning serious as she took both of Stephen’s hands in hers. “The foundation has agreed to make this into one of their centers. You’re standing in front of the future site of the Regina Dene Memorial Addiction and Crisis Center.”

Stephen stared at her, his face completely unmoving.

“This facility will help anyone in London struggling with addiction,” she explained. “They provide free resources, counseling, medical treatment, and this building in particular will have twenty beds especially reserved for teenagers dishomed due to their addiction.”

Stephen turned and looked back at the front of the building, his brow furrowed in what looked to be deep concentration.

“I know you hated your parents, Stephen, but I also know you loved your sister. And I know you never want what happened to her to happen to anyone else.”

Rory squeezed his hands. “Now Regina is going to help other people.”

Stephen turned slowly back toward her, his face very hard to read.

“You took seventeen million pounds that belonged to my parents and made a drug-addiction center…in my sister’s name…”

“Y-yeah,” Rory replied, starting to wonder if this was all a terrible idea and wondering how much money she could actually get back before Stephen murdered her. 

Before she could apologize, Stephen’s face broke into the largest grin she had ever seen on his face. 

“Marry me. Right now. Right this second, because that is the most wonderful thing I have ever heard in my life,” he laughed, picking her up around the waist and spinning her around once before kissing her hard on the mouth. “That was not a real proposal by the way-the real one will be better.” 

“Real one?” Rory asked, tentatively smiling at Stephen’s smirk. 

“Some day,” he laughed, putting her down and turning back to look at the building with a hand over his mouth. “Rory…oh my god, this is the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“And you don’t have to worry about running it or anything, the foundation controls all the monies and it’s very good, I did a lot of research.” 

He turned and held her shoulders with both hands, giving them a little shake before kissing her again. 

“Thank you. Thank you, for everything. This…this…”

“Is going to be hard to top on your next birthday,” she laughed. “Be prepared for a tie…or a nice shirt, or something.”

“I have to tell Callum and Boo-they’re going to flip,” he laughed, starting down the road back toward the Tube stop. He gave a victorious shout and put both his fists up as he walked. 

Rory started to follow him, but stopped when she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Someone had been standing beside the building watching them. She had been sure of it. There was no one there, and as she began to walk, she saw it again. Turning once more, she saw the outline of a girl. 

The girl was definitely not alive, but looked unlike any ghost she had ever seen. Her features wavered in and out, almost like the channel of a television that didn’t quite come in. Rory started to say something to Stephen before the girl held a single finger up to her lips, and then gave a sly grin. 

Then she knew. The sparkle in the girl’s eyes told her all she needed to know. The eyes that matched Stephen’s perfectly. The girl gave her one final wave, her smile widening, before she disappeared into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends. I have to admit, this story almost came faster than I could handle. I'm sure it's riddled with mistakes, but I just needed to get it out of my head. These characters stayed with me more than any other series I remember, and I just hate not knowing how their stories ended. 
> 
> I may write a couple one-shots in this universe if people are interested and if the ideas come to me-because I'm always down for more Rory/Stephen shenanigans. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read this, especially LarkAndLioness, whose comments kept me going when I wasn't sure that anyone cared to keep reading. I hope you liked the ending. :)


End file.
